Remember Me Tomorrow
by Skychaser
Summary: What would you do if your dead best friend suddenly wasn't so dead anymore? After a life of abandonment, Bella finds her sanity slipping through the cracks, until this not so functioning adult receives a shock that may end up being deadly. *All human*
1. Prologue

**Title**: Remember Me Tomorrow **  
Disclaimer**: All characters belong to the thoughts and imaginative creativity of Stephenie Meyer. They are not and have never been mine. **  
Story**: Death - it breaks friendships and shatters lives. At 14, Bella's life is destroyed. At 23, she is determined never to trust again. But Death is a strange & winding thing. Can a girl, confronted with her past, find her heart before Death encroaches again? (All-human/Cannon Pairings/Alternate Universe/Slight-OOC**)****  
Spoilers**: None**  
Rating: **M **  
Author**: Skychaser

**A/N:** Hello to all the loveliness out there. I just need to say two quick things. First off, if you've been reading this story, sorry for the quick change, but I decided that the tale needed a bit of a starter, and so was birthed what lies below. If you haven't previously been reading, then ignore everything stated above.

Also, I just wanted to say a huge thank you to my awesome lovely ladies, the amazing **clarabella75**, my ever wonderful beta (who most certainly pulls out her whip to keep me in line) and my bestest in the entire world and awesome pre-reader (she knows it's a chore :P) **nitty46**. Thank you ladies both, for providing me with the encouragement to write for myself, if not for anyone else. Love you with all of my heart.

* * *

**Prologue**

_The heart that truly loves never forgets._

* * *

I had lost … everything. And it was my fault.

Swirls of pungent smoke rose into the silent, supple night air; thin wisps stretching and reaching for the stars, calling into the high places, pushing forward, ineffaceable, hungry for a journey which would crush them, ruthless.

Life. Life was like that – a game no one is meant to win.

It had read my hand, played me for a fool. It was the night of death, with no hope for stars.

I was losing him again, and she was slipping away. And here I was ... I was losing it, and it was my fault. I could do nothing but pity myself, nothing but face the reality of what was slipping through my fingers as easily as sand, scattered by the winds of Fate.

Fate ... chance had nothing to do with it. Life, God, Fate … they were all mocking me, mocking my every breath.

_It should be you … they took your place … because you were too _frightened_ to face what they _knew.

The crisp crackle of orange ember blazed and then burnt out. I tossed the wasted cigarette and stepped inside.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The solitary evenness of the machinery aligned with my heartbeat. I could feel it shake and rattle my ribcage. Artificially alive. I was the same.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

The rhythm changed, slowed … faded.

Life blurs. Only the noise stretches on.

Life vanishes.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep._


	2. Chapter One: This Side

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "This Side" performed by Nickel Creek, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N **- For those who have already been reading, thank you so much for bearing with me during the changes to the chapters and the order of the stories. You have my heart. Also, because it can become REALLY confusing, for the first few chapters I'm going to list the main character's ages, okay? Okay. Good. :)

**Bella**: Part One - 6 years / Part Two – 11 years  
**Edward**: Part One - 9 years / Part Two – 14 years**  
Emmett**: Part One - 11 years / Part Two – 16 years

Just as another quick side note, the inspiration for each chapter individually relies very heavily on the song at the beginning of the chapter, so knowing them and/or listening to them will only add to your reading pleasure.

* * *

**Chapter One:  
This Side**

_One day you'll see her and you'll know what I mean  
Take her or leave her she will still be the same  
She'll not try to buy you with her time  
But nothing's the same as you will see when she's gone_

"_This Side" - Nickel Creek_

x0x0x0x0x0x

The bright and unusually sun-drenched day in Forks caused the lanky boy's view to blur as he was shoved from the shade into the sunlight, his wrists popping while his hands jerked forward and caught the brunt of his fall. Unfortunately for his forehead, it caught the rest.

"I said get up, carrot top!"

The ginger haired boy winced and pulled his head from the graveled dirt, a patch of stinging skin dancing right along his hairline. Glancing up, he caught sight of the size twelve shoe aimed directly at his side just in time to roll into the path of another shoe that caught him squarely in the hip. Rusted air spit from his lungs and sent a spray of dirt into the air.

"Where're my dues, Raggedy Andy?"

The boy rolled onto his back and stared into the blue sky, his eyes adjusting to the brilliant yellow orb. A large oblong shape with curly brown hair and a fist backed by a bicep no ten year old boy should ever have hovered, off center in his vision. Gigantor scowled and shoved the toe of his black boot deeper into the ginger haired boy's side.

Another rush of air burst from his lungs as a sudden cough. He licked his lips, traces of sand and a thin layer of blood coating the surface. He spit.

"I told you –" another cough as the boot shoved again "– I don't owe you anything." One side of his mouth crooked up in a sneer. "And I'm not gonna pay you like some scared kindergartner."

In an instant, the three other boys completing the small circle jerked the boy up roughly and dragged him across the rocky ground, shoving him against the bottom of a green plastic slide. Gigantor was in his face again.

"And I told you, three days was all the new little scraps like you get 'round here." He leaned down, scowling as his meaty fists grasped the sides of the ginger haired boy's shirt right by the collar bone. "And for someone as pathetic looking as you, I think I've been extra generous."

One side of the ginger haired boy's mouth lifted in a defiantly crooked grin as he sucked in a breath and spit – directly on Gigantor's chest.

Gigantor's reaction was faster than he'd expected. He watched and winced as the fist that possibly spelled out yet another broken nose reared back in fury.

"Ethan Sanders, you leave him alone!"

The inevitable blow dropped its trajectory as Gigantor's other fist suddenly released from the side of the boy's shirt, throwing his head back against the plastic slide.

The small, tinny voice that had apparently come to his rescue rang through the ginger haired boy's ears, sharp as the bells that rang through his head from the crack it had taken on the hard ramp.

"Swan? What are you doing over here? Go on back to the kindergarten sand box and don't interrupt my business deals."

The ginger haired boy slowly straightened and brought his hand to the back of his head, gently feeling the tender area that had been so recently abused.

"You call this business? You're about to knock him out!" Her small voice went up a full octave in indignation, a feat that the ginger haired boy found to be an absolute marvel. He opened his eyes slowly, a bright light filtering into his vision and spiking an awful pain through his head. He stifled a low groan. He couldn't see anything anyway. The row of boys that had dragged him across the playground now flanked their leader, blocking his savior from view. Gigantor snorted and the boy heard him move a step forward.

"My business is none of your business, brat. Unless you wanna start givin' me your lunch money too?"

A spark of protest shot through the ginger haired boy at the sneer and the threat in Gigantor's words. He moved to stand in defense of whomever it was that had stopped his face from being pummeled, but the pain from one breath stopped him in his tracks.

"Yeah right," the high voice scoffed. He could almost see the smug smile on her face. Her small feet took a few steps forward. "Don't you even _know_ who my daddy is? He'd arrest you for even _touching _me." At her last few words, Gigantor stumbled backwards. Ginger hair realized in stunned silence that little bit had _shoved_ the boy who was at least twice her size.

"Why you—"

"Emmett!" Her small voice was more piercing than ever, but it apparently brought the desired results. The ginger haired boy finally pulled himself up to sit on the slide, but whatever noise he made didn't matter anymore. The gazes of the posse of four had turned to the far right where a group of five boys were standing around playing hacky sack. The largest of the five turned, looking annoyed until he spotted Gigantor's pack.

A scowl pulled down at the side of his face as one of the other boys snatched the hacky sack from the air and all five began to move in formation towards the small brunette that stood with her hands on her hips, looking as smugly righteous as any grown up the ginger haired boy had ever seen. He almost laughed as Gigantor took a step back.

"McCarty … I-I"

"Save it, Sanders." The enormous mass of muscled fifth grader turned to the pip-squeak who barely came up to his waist. "What's up, Izzy bug?"

"Ethan threatened me. _Again_. And he was beating up my friend." Her small arms were crossed over her chest in exasperation as she gestured towards the ginger haired boy. The enormous boy chuckled as he ruffled her scattered mess of chocolate brown hair.

"Alright babe, I've got it."

Gigantor and his crew took three steps back. By the time Ginger hair had pulled himself to his feet, the affectionate grin on the larger boy's face had turned to a scowl of irritation.

"What have I told you about messing with her, Sanders?"

Gigantor stuttered as he continued to step backwards. Most of his crew disbanded and fled to separate sides of the playground.

"I-I wouldn't touch her McCarty! Swear! It was her who came up to me, got in the middle of what I was doing!"

"He's my friend, you idiot!" The little brunette screeched as she stomped a small foot.

"Izzy," the fifth grader warned, his gaze not leaving the bully in front of him. "Language."

"Sorry," she sighed, rolling her eyes and not looking a bit remorseful.

"I swear, I didn't know! I didn't know he was with you!" Gigantor's protests continued until the one called Emmett had him backed up against the steps to the monkey bars.

"Well he is. I've warned you before to end this business of yours." His scowl grew deeper. "And if you _ever_ threaten Izzy again, I swear I will knock both your permanent teeth out. No questions. Now get," the massive boy spat as Gigantor slid from in front of his gaze and sprinted towards the tether ball pole where the rest of his group had gathered.

In an instant the large bell atop the school began to clang incessantly, signaling the end of the school day. The remainder of Emmett's group disbanded, each heading towards the rows of book bags that lined the side of the brick school and ruffling the small girl's hair as they walked past her.

The girl's eyes, however, had not left the tall, lanky ginger haired kid who propped himself up against the slide, holding his side. As soon as the group had dissipated from around her, she jogged slowly to his side, stopping a foot from where he stood. He winced and tried to stand straight.

"Are you okay?" she murmured, clenching both hands in front of her and gazing at him expectantly. The large boy walked up behind her and laid his large hand on her head.

"Izzy babe, you've really gotta get this good deed syndrome under control. I can't keep rescuing all the strays you pick up." The fifth grader turned and began to smile good naturedly at the lanky boy who had finally managed to stand without the assistance of the slide. His smile turned to a frown as he noticed the blood staining his chin. "Whoa, hey, dude, are you okay?"

The ginger haired boy glanced up at his saviors, licking his lips again and spitting at the metallic taste of blood.

"Yeah," he sighed, running a hand through his tousled, dusty hair.

"Geez," Emmett whistled through his teeth, "I've never seen Sanders actually mess somebody up that bad. Guess you musta put up a fight." He grinned. "Nice job."

"I told you he needed some help," the small little bird chirped in, one hand finally coming to rest on the back of Emmett's leg.

"Yeah, bug, you were right." Reaching down, he grabbed the little girl by the sides and shoved her onto his shoulders. He offered his other arm to the ginger haired kid as a support.

"Emmett McCarty. Fifth grade saint. Nice to meet ya."

The ginger haired kid looked up into the smiling eyes of the boy who had just saved him his nose, his jaw, and an almost certain uncomfortable month long stay with said broken jaw wired shut, drinking every meal through a straw.

Yeah … they were probably trust worthy.

"Edward Masen. Fourth grade punching bag. Nice to meet you." Edward grabbed on to Emmett's forearm and took a measured step forward, sighing when the pain in his hip and ribs subsided to a dull ache.

A small pressure on the top of his head made him look up. The tiny brunette brushed her hand through his hair and then waved, her small face lighting up in a beaming smile.

"Isabella Marie Swan. I'm in first grade and Emmett calls me his angel. But Izzy is what everyone else ca—" the little bird's words turned into a squeal followed by a fit of giggles as Emmett pulled her from his shoulders with one arm and swung her small body around to his hip.

"Angel! Little devil is more like it. Gets me into more trouble than I can get myself out of." Izzy beamed and placed a wet kiss against his cheek. Mockingly, Emmett groaned. "Watch yourself if you're gonna be friends with this one, Edward. Troublemaker in disguise, I swear."

Edward grinned as he watched his savior and first friend at the new school. The little girl smiled broadly at the boy who carried her to retrieve her things, finally noticing Edward's stare and tucking her head into the crook of Emmett's neck shyly. Edward's grin widened into a crooked smile.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

* * *

_Five Years Later_

"Have you got it?"

Her thin whisper severed the silence in the empty girls' bathroom at Forks High, but her chocolate eyes glowed in the small bits of sunset that managed to cut through the layer of clouds and filter into the windows of the stalls. Reaching into his jeans pocket, Edward removed the small, hefty water key and sent an almost disapprovingly worried glance down at the scheming eleven-year-old in front of him.

"Are you sure about this?"

She returned his look in the form of her patented disbelieving scowl, complete with two small hands propped on two non-existent hips.

"Seriously, Edward? Are you really chickening out on me _now_?" Izzy leaned back against the wall and held out her hand, cocking up an eyebrow. "Do you want them to pay for what they did to Emmett, or not?"

The fresh image of Emmett in the hospital bed, broken femur raised in a sling and tape wrapped around his waist from the bruised ribs Ethan Sanders, Lane Thornton, and Reggie Grayson had given him on field in the middle of the Forks High Regional Football Playoffs echoed past his mind's eye. He frowned.

"No, I never said that, it's just –" he hesitated, knowing that she would never buy his excuse. "Maybe three days of dry weather in Forks is a sign. That it wasn't supposed to work. Maybe this is mother nature's way of telling us to back off."

Izzy scoffed and snatched the water key from his open hand.

"No such thing. It's just a freak dry spell that we have to make right, no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Turning towards the open window and the fading sunlight, she fingered the metal x and the side of her small mouth quirked upwards. "They'll pay for it till they graduate. I'll make sure of it."

Edward let out a slow sigh and studied the tiny girl in front of him. They had been inseparable for five years now, and Isabella Swan had proven time and again just how big of a spirit and personality her small, wiry body held. Her tiny fingers could barely cover the entire water key, but he knew if he didn't go along, she'd find some other way to turn the sprinklers on in the middle of the playoff game for the chance to go to State.

"You know, it's not completely fair to punish the rest of the team," he frowned again, addressing the one other hitch he had found in her plan.

"Psshh," she waved his concerns off with one hand and turned to face him. "They let it happen. Besides, all they'll do is reschedule the stupid game." As she turned back to the window, Edward watched as a sly grin spread across her pretty face. "And once they find the bags, the gloves, and the water key inside Ethan's locker, he won't even _make _it to play in _that_ game."

Blinking twice, Edward stared at her profile. His Izzy was strong, endearing, brave, and more fiercely protective than anyone else he had ever met. He pitied then and there man who even _thought_ to two-time her in the future.

"How did you –"

"I have my ways." She smiled and turned from the window again, moving in the direction of the bathroom door. Edward shook his head and trailed after her.

"God, Iz, you sound like a mafia boss or something."

A soft giggle escaped before she pushed open the heavy metal door and glanced out, confirming that the hallways remained clear and nodding towards the double doors at the end. The two pranksters stole quickly down the hallway, ducking beneath the glass on the double doors as Edward peaked out the windows. As soon as the coast was clear, the duo slipped out of the school hallway and strolled in the direction of the brick and concrete groundskeeper's shed that sat closest to the football field.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edward watched Izzy stop in her tracks. He smiled as she licked her lips in concentration and, as soon as he was three steps ahead, took a small running leap, only to wrap her skinny legs squarely around his waist. He grabbed onto her ankles and began a slight jog. As soon as he neared the small hut, he glanced around and came to a stop next to the door along the back wall, blocking their view of the football field.

Izzy remained on his shoulders as he tested the knob only to find it firmly locked. He glanced over at the small face that hovered over his shoulder.

"Well, what now? You're the man with the plan, right?"

Her forehead scrunched up in thought.

"Woman with the plan," she responded absently as her eyes wondered over the building, lighting up suddenly. Edward raised a brown in question. Izzy pointed upwards – directly at the rectangular window which sat above the door, the glass pane halfway open. More than enough for her skinny body to slide through.

"Iz!" The exclamation slid through his lips as a hiss, but in an instant she responded by placing one hand on the top of his head and hoisting her foot up into his available hand.

She knew he would never let her fall, even if he disagreed.

Smiling, she picked her other foot up onto his shoulder, pausing for a second and then taking a short leap, only to grasp at the window seal with the palms of her hands.

A soft pressure placed itself at the soles of her feet and she eased down a bit, placing more of her weight on his open palms. She smiled. He would always be there to catch her.

After a few seconds, Izzy felt herself lift half a foot higher so that her chest was level with the edge of concrete.

Picking herself up, she slid forward on her chest until she could pull her foot up and through the window. She straddled the cool ledge. Looking down at Edward, Izzy grinned and stuck out her tongue as she swung her other leg around over the ledge before dropping onto the concrete floor.

"Hurry," his urgent whisper slid through the window over the door. "They're just starting the second quarter."

Izzy nodded soundlessly, searching the small building as her eyes adjusted to the thin light until she spotted the white label over a spigot that came out of the side of one wall – _field sprinklers_.

"Score."

Sticking the skinny polygon into its connecting hole, she wrapped both fists around the water key and struggled for a few seconds, sighing as a subtle popping noise echoed from the spigot and the key finally gave way. Izzy spun the device a few more times and then yanked it from its hole.

Edward stood outside, a few feet away from the concrete bound hut when Izzy burst through the door, a wide smile lighting her face as she sprinted by him and back towards the metal double doors. Edward sprinted after her, but her thin legs carried her faster than he would ever be; he watched as she disappeared behind the corner into a small alleyway created by the two buildings. Darting after her into the shadows, he pressed his back flat against the brick wall next to her, both dissolving into panting laughter.

"So," Edward heaved in a final lungful of oxygen and turned to face the girl who stood doubled over her knees. "From where would you like to enjoy the show, my scheming little lady?"

Izzy finally turned to look at him, twists of feathered bangs stuck to the sweat on the sides of her face, her skin glowing in the fading twilight. Her eyebrows lifted and eyes lit up in hopeful expectation.

"The pavilion?"

He nodded, grinning until a sudden thought twisted his brow.

"What about the evidence that convicts our dear friend Ethan? They'll lock the school up as soon as the game is postponed. Which," Edward paused to listen to the growing murmurs that drifted their way, "will probably be relatively soon."

Izzy cleared her throat and pulled the water key, a pick, a small pack of wipes, and a skeleton key out of her pocket.

"We'll plant the evidence later," she smirked.

"I really need to talk to Emmett about what he's teaching you." Edward rolled his eyes and stuck out a hand. "Lead on, Donna Isabella."

Izzy grasped the proffered limb readily as they trekked back through the grass, through the parking lot, and finally to the old two story concession stand that stood twenty feet off from the recently rebuilt football field and concession stand. Swinging through a back entry way, Edward hoisted Izzy up onto the hanging ladder. When she had reached the middle rung, he started up himself.

As soon as the duo reached the flat concrete roof of the first story, they were treated to the fruits of their labor.

The sprinklers had already been turned off; however, they had done their intended damage. Players from both teams, along with the referees and a few spectators, waded around on the football field, which was lined with a two inch thick layer of mashed potatoes from the forty boxes of potato flakes Edward and Izzy had spread across the majority of the football field two days ago.

As Edward sat himself down on the cool concrete, Izzy placed herself between his legs and laid her head back, smiling sweetly and curling into his chest like a contented kitten.

"You'd take care of it if it were me, right?"

Edward smiled softly and ran his hands through her long, feathered brown hair.

"Of course, Iz. I'll always take care of you."

* * *

Reviews are happiness for my soul. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter Two: The Trapeze Swinger

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "The Trapeze Swinger" performed by Iron and Wine, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **As stated before, here are the main character's ages during this chapter, just to clear up any questions from my readers. Otherwise, my lovelies, you know you are always welcome to ask anything or make any comments that your pretty hearts desire. :)  
**Bella**: 14 years old  
**Edward**: 17 years old  
**Emmett**: 19 years old  
I hope you enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter ****Two:  
The Trapeze Swinger**

_Please, remember me, at Halloween  
Making fools of all the neighbors  
Our faces painted white  
By midnight  
We'd forgotten one another  
And when the morning came  
I was ashamed  
Only now it seems so silly  
That season left the world  
And then returned  
And now you're lit up by the city_

"_The Trapeze Swinger," Iron & Wine_

x0x0x0x0x0x

Three Years Later

The delicate harmony of notes that danced out from underneath her steadily moving fingertips flowed around the room. The graceful tones cascaded down on their audience, drawing a hidden smile from him in the midst of his concentration.

Hovering over his guitar and leaning against the suede beanbag in the corner of the Swan's living room, Edward picked a few tuning notes directly by his ear and closed his eyes, listening to the melody that his favorite student played out with passion.

In an unfortunate instant, two wrong chords created a dissonant cacophony of sound. He flinched ever so slightly as his highly impatient student slammed two fists down on the ivory keys and finally slouched over the keyboard, which crashed again as her forehead hit the piano.

"Izzy," he sighed, absently strumming a chord on his guitar as he continued to tune the instrument, "you have to be patient, babe. You're learning." He glanced up at his student and chuckled at the death glare she was emitting from underneath her arm. She lifted her head and rolled her eyes distinctly as she fingered a few chords on her instrument.

"How would you even know? It's not like it takes you long to learn anything," she scowled, gesturing to the guitar he was strumming while staring at her face. "See? You don't even have to try. 'Natural talent,' like Mom says."

"It's not always all about talent, Iz." Edward glanced back down at the guitar in his hands and pulled a few more chords from its strings. "It's about passion and persistence. And you've got both in spades." He smiled back up at his fourteen-year-old protégé who drank the compliment in and beamed back at her tutor. "Now, try again."

Her beaming smile dropped off instantly and a deep groan took its place.

"Come _on_, Edward, my lesson was over ten minutes ago!" Leaping off the piano bench, Izzy took three long strides across the living room, snatched her camera off the table, and lay down on her stomach at the foot of Edward's beanbag, her abdomen resting in between his feet and her elbows on the insides of his knees. "It's your turn to sing to me."

Edward glanced over at the hand that was tightening the peg on the head of his guitar and then back to the girl between his knees who stared up at him with her newly patented puppy dog eyes. He burst out laughing.

"Okay, okay … only if you stop making that face," he smirked as her lips turned down in a mock frown and she reached out to slap his knee. He gestured lightly in her direction. "What do you want to hear?"

Izzy's eyes suddenly dropped to the back of her camera. She fiddled shyly with the settings as a bashful grin spread across her face.

"Our song, please," she murmured, so softly that Edward reached down and lifted her face to his.

"Hey, Iz, it's our song for a reason. So we'll never forget each other, right?" The young girl nodded as he leaned back and positioned himself. "Don't you ever be ashamed of that." He picked one string before gently strumming the opening chords. A crooked smile stretched across his lips when he sang.

"_Please, remember me, happily, by the rose bush laughing with bruises on my chin, the time when we counted every black car passing your house beneath the hill and up until someone caught us in the kitchen with maps, a mountain range, a piggy bank. A vision too removed to mention." _

His voice was smooth with a perfectly grained overtone, drifting through the familiar melody easily. Izzy sighed as she positioned herself behind her camera, taking practiced, hidden shots as the warmth of his low tenor curled itself around her body while safety, home, and warm cocoa drifted through her veins.

"_But please, remember me, fondly … I heard from someone you're still pretty, and then, they went on to say that the pearly gates had some eloquent graffiti like 'we'll meet again,' and 'screw the man,' and 'tell my mother not to worry.' And angels with their gray handshakes were always done in such a hurry. And –"_

The high pitched tones of a strummed electric guitar interrupted the soft melody just as he reached the third verse, pulling both of them out of their entranced state as Edward reached for his phone and Izzy scowled at the offending object.

Flipping the small silver device open, Edward grinned. He pulled his guitar from his shoulders, setting it in the case lying next to him. He stood up and pulled Izzy with him in one smooth motion.

"I'm sorry, Iz, it's time for me to hit the road," he murmured as he knelt down to pack the remaining accoutrements.

He stood to find her seated on the couch across the living room, staring intently at the small camera in her hands, her lips pursed so tightly that all traces of color left their usual fullness as blank as her face. Edward slipped his hands into his pockets. A soft weight settled in his chest at the look in her eyes. Neither was truly sure why his leaving mattered so much.

Each simply knew that it did.

"Iz," he sighed, "it's just dinner. Marissa is my friend." She finally turned her large brown eyes to meet his.

"I know," she returned the sigh, picking the camera up from her lap and snapping another quick shot as Edward paced over and sat next to her. He slung an arm around her slim frame and rubbed her shoulder.

"I promised Marissa I would see her tonight, and you know how I feel about my promises." Izzy nodded, laying her head on his shoulder as she continued to study the back of the camera. Edward tried again.

"Nothing's going to change, Iz. I'm gonna be back tomorrow morning to pick you up for school, and no matter how many girls I go to dinner with, you will always be my Izzy, okay? Always."

Izzy finally lifted her eyes to meet his, her long lashes flickering softly against her cheeks and stealing his breath for the barest second he would allow, the soft weight in his chest squeezing tightly till his heart skipped a beat and his breathing became shallow. He almost missed her faint whisper in his distraction.

"Promise?"

"Of course, Iz," he smiled genuinely, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head and running a hand through her hair and across her cheek.

"For always. I promise."

* * *

_Two Months Later_

Soft strums of an acoustic melody coursed through the air from the small surround sound speakers scattered about the room. Edward rested against the headboard of his bed, slipping both hands behind his neck and shutting his eyes while his fingertips drummed out the beat. Izzy's birthday was in two weeks and he was almost finished with his gift, a semi-professional recording of their song and a special something extra – another song he had begun writing for her a few months ago.

There was only one small hitch in his plan – he was having serious writer's block. The notepad and pen had been tossed aside hours ago, replaced by the guitar that sat face up in his lap. One hand moved from behind his head and began to pick at the strings on his guitar again, his mind moving through the lyrics of the one song that seemed appropriate.

"_But please, remember me, my misery, and how it lost me all I wanted. Those dogs that love the rain and chasing trains, the colored birds above there running in circles round the well, and where it spells on the wall behind –"_

The high pitched tones of his cell phone interrupted his singsong murmurs. Rolling his head towards the clock, Edward squinted in the dim yellow light, blinking the liquid out of his burning eyes until he finally read the time – 2:24 am. Surprise forced his lethargic brain into action as he reached over and squinted again at the display. His surprise doubled at the name.

"Izzy?" He murmured, his voice grainy from disuse. An abrupt sob was her only response. Edward sat up at the sound and placed the guitar beside him on the bed, instantly walking to the closet, sliding on a gray hoodie and sneakers, and picking his keys up from the bedside table. Her short, stifled sniffles continued.

"Iz, it's okay baby. Whatever happened, it's okay." Just as he reached the door to the garage, he caught her soft whisper through the receiver.

"It's dad."

_Shit._

"What happened," he prompted when he was met with quiet on the other end.

"He …" her murmurs barely echoed into the receiver and Edward pushed the phone closer to his ear, straining to hear. "Edward, he – he's gone," she sobbed, dissolving again as his foot subconsciously pressed harder on the gas pedal.

"Okay, Iz, put down the phone and get yourself some tissues. I'm already on my way."

"Please hurry," came the whisper as the phone clicked gently in his ear.

Five minutes later, Edward pulled into the Swan's driveway and parked in the yard behind two patrol cars. He steeled himself as he walked up to the doorway and was not surprised when Izzy ran through the door and across the five foot gap, throwing herself into his open embrace. The front of his hoodie was instantly wet with her tears.

"Shhh," he hummed, running his hands through her hair while her small fists wrapped themselves in the excess material of his jacket. Finally, after ten minutes of standing in the damp grass, Izzy's small body began to shake and Edward pulled her into his arms, carrying her bridal-style back to the house and scowling at her previously unnoticed lack of footwear.

Edward stepped quietly into the house, noticing only the two patrol officers sitting around the Swan's dining room table; Izzy's mother was nowhere to be seen. He nodded at the officers and started up the stairs. Izzy's arms wrapped around his neck as her eyes remained closed, her breath coming in small, sharp puffs.

Regardless of his attempts to be as quiet as possible, the stairs continued to creak under his feet, complaining at carrying both his weight and that of the broken girl in his arms. He had three stairs left to the top of the landing when Izzy's parents' bedroom door creaked open. Edward halted in his tracks, not prepared to deal with another distraught female. He could only release a relieved sigh when Mrs. McCarty slipped from the bedroom. She smiled softly at both of them.

"Thank you," she whispered, running her fingers through Izzy's hair. Edward could see her thin fingers tremble.

"Was your hus–" he started, but her quick nod cut him off.

"Robert was there." She sighed, her jittery limbs repeating their path and her gaze fixed on the spot. "I know Emmett will regret not being here." She paused, looked up. "But … at least she has you." Mrs. McCarty slipped the hand that had been running through Izzy's hair up to Edward's shoulder.

"Take her away from here, Edward. Please."

And then she was gone, sweeping down the steps and into the kitchen.

It was nothing short of a miracle that the McCartys lived next door to the Swans. Ellen and Renee had been fast friends, both bonding over the anxieties that came with living life as the spouse of someone constantly in the line of fire. They had managed to survive sixteen years with no tragedies. That streak of luck had obviously run out.

Edward was thankful that Renee had Ellen McCarty's nurturing presence to soothe her pain. He already had no idea what to do with the one charge he had, so he decided to make use of her advice. Slipping into Izzy's room, he picked up a pair of fuzzy socks and her bright, multicolor-flowered rain boots from her closet, sat on her bed, and pulled them both on her feet as she lay in his lap, breathing slowly.

He then wrapped her up in her queen comforter and, throwing the excess over his shoulder, he walked quietly back down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Mrs. McCarty had obviously gone back upstairs, as a teakettle sat heating on the stove, but otherwise the small, warm room was empty.

Edward adjusted Izzy in his arms as she rolled over and breathed out lightly. Stepping through the door, he hurried across the wet grass and disappeared into the woods. He couldn't see his feet, but fortunately, he didn't need to. His steps were practiced as he ducked in the appropriate places and wound through the trees. Ten minutes later, he had made the quarter mile trek, breaking through a line in the forest and into a small, peaceful valley where the Sol Duc River ran in a steady motion.

He walked a bit more, following the flow downstream until he came to a small rocky cove and a swing bench big enough for at least three people. He and Emmett had built the bench five summers ago, after Izzy had declared the hidden cove to be their spot, a place that the three of them could come anytime if they simply needed to run away. The chains were slightly rusty and the wood seemed to be rotting at the bottom from the extreme damp, but the rest of the pine held solid.

Edward rolled the comforter out over the bench, sitting on one end and folding it around Izzy like a sleeping bag, laying her head on his lap and pulling the other corner over his own shoulders. Her shallow breaths were almost even as she rested fitfully. Edward reached over and untwisted her hand from where it lay tangled, removing the chunk of hair from the tight grasp that her small fist had managed to work around it.

Automatically he began to run his hand through her hair, fingering the feathered ends and then following down her cheek until he had reached her chin, bringing his hand back up and repeating the motion again. He began to hum, singing quietly.

"_Please, remember me as in the dream we had as rug-burned babies among the fallen trees and fast asleep aside the lions and the ladies that called you what you like and even might give a gift for your behavior, a fleeting chance to see a trapeze swing as high as any savior."_

The small girl stirred against his lap, one hand coming to brush the hair from her forehead as she rolled onto her back and then her other side, facing his stomach. Her eyes blinked open slowly and she wrapped an arm around his waist inside of her cocoon.

"Edward?" Her voice was grainy, his name a question on her lips. He smiled faintly and reached down to brush the rest of her hair from her face and dried tears from the corners of her eyes. He kissed her forehead tenderly.

"Yes?" He kept his voice to a soft murmur, the light of the full moon coloring her skin as white as paper.

"Is this a dream?"

A sharp pain in his chest clenched at her words. She would never know how he wished he could answer that question differently.

"No, angel." He braced himself, waiting for the tears to fall again, but as usual her response surprised him.

She simply nodded her head solemnly and pulled herself closer to his waist.

"Iz?" He circled her upper body with his arm and brushed her cheek with his other hand. "Are you okay baby?"

Her answer didn't come at first, but he could feel her fingering the back of his hoodie. She breathed in repeatedly, burrowing her nose into his abdomen and resting her forehead there. Edward drew in a deep breath, working not to clench up at the feel of her so close to him.

"No," she finally answered, nodding her head slowly. "No … and yeah." She looked up at him and laid her head against the fist that rested on his thigh. "As long as you're here, I think I will be." Reaching up, she stroked his cheek once, lingering at his chin, and then turned to rest on her back. A rush of air left his lungs as she rolled over.

"Sing. Please." The request was stated so simply, but a sad, distant hunger laced through her words. He could do nothing but oblige.

"_Please, remember me, finally, and all my uphill clawing, my dear. But if I make the pearly gates, do my best to make a drawing of God and Lucifer, a boy and girl, an angel kissin' on a sinner, a monkey and a man, a marching band, all around the frightened trapeze swingers."_

He finished out the tune in a hum, playing with the hair on her forehead. She tensed suddenly under the covers.

"You're not going anywhere, right?" She sat up and turned to face him, pulling her tender warmth from his legs and hands. The twang of loss hit him harder than he'd expected. "You have to stay here." Her small eyes were suddenly panicked. "You can't go to heaven without me. We have to do that stuff together, you don't get to lea –"

"Shhhh," he placed a finger against her lips and leaned forward on his hand to look into her eyes.

"I'm not leaving you Izzy, I promise. I will fight with everything I have to stay right by your side."

She sniffled lightly.

"Do you promise?"

Edward reached out and took both of her small hands in his as a slow tear slipped down the side of her face.

"Isabella Marie Swan, I vow to stay with you for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me."

Wearily she nodded, satisfied for the moment as she turned to her other side to watch the river flow in the moonlight. One hand rested on his knee as the other tucked itself under her head. Her small fingers began tracing patterns on the fabric of his sweat pants. The silenced stretched until Izzy broke it once more.

"Edward?"

"Hmm," he murmured, rolling his head back against the bench and closing his eyes as he rubbed circles against her back. The darkness crept in behind his eyelids.

"I love you."

He sighed, the corners of his mouth lifting softly.

"I love you too, Izzy."

His hand stopped its motion as he drifted into sleep, resting atop her side as her eyes fell shut. A black silence enveloped the two, the murmur of the bubbling river flowing forever effortlessly beside them.

* * *

_One Month Later_

Edward clenched onto the notepad in his lap, one hand grabbing the arm of his seat as the small plane dipped again in the rocky turbulence outside Hartsford-Jackson. He scowled, partially at the gray clouds that surrounded the aircraft and partially at the notebook which threatened to spill from his lap, still only half full of words.

If his mom's mother hadn't just passed away, there was no way he'd be on this plane to Savannah, but his grandmother was the woman who had raised him for three years during the worst of his parents' divorce, before his father had moved him from Chicago to Forks. His grandmother had always preferred the Southern hospitality and sweet tea, making Savannah her home before Edward was even born. The southern town had become his home as much as it was hers, and he would have been more than happy to return if it hadn't been for Izzy.

His little savior was still shaken by her father's death, regardless of how proud he was of how she was handling it. She had marched through her birthday, requesting only a small gathering of her mom, the McCarty's, Angela Weber, Edward, and Emmett. She had been thrilled with his gifts, instantly putting their song on her IPod and coloring the disk with stars. But he had never finished the song he had started so many months ago, his writers' block gripping onto him with both fists and refusing to let go.

Another jolt sent his pen flying from his hand. Edward groaned, placing his forehead in his hands and shoving the notebook into the book bag in front of him. He leaned back and closed his eyes. The memory of Izzy's panicked eyes when he told her he was leaving reflected in his memory. She had tried to hide them quickly, but the fear he saw in her pretty face had seared itself onto his brain.

His eyes flew open and he sucked in another breath as the plane dipped again suddenly. The seatbelt sign above his head flickered off and on again. Edward fingered the arm of his seat, thankful that he had no one next to him on the flight. Usually, flying didn't make him nervous, but this weather was unsettling to anyone who had only flown a few times in their life. Another shudder wracked his body and threw his head against his seat. He breathed in deeply.

"I won't leave you, Izzy." The words slipped past his lips in a whisper. "I will see you again."

* * *

"Isabella?"

"Yes ma'am?" Izzy turned her head at her mom's voice and swiveled in her desk chair. Her eye caught a small mistake as she turned and she quickly swiveled back, clicking through a few buttons in Photoshop. She was throwing herself into her photography, clicking and editing to her heart's content to distract herself while Edward was in Savannah.

"Izzy," the voice was quiet this time, right in her doorway. Izzy spun her head as the name her mother called her registered. She felt nauseous.

"Mom?" She stood up from her desk chair, but her knees wobbled underneath her and she grabbed at the side of the desk. _So clumsy._ Just the kind of thing Edward would have teased her about. She barely had time to register the thought before her mother's words lurched through her brain in slow motion.

"Isabella … there's … there's been … an accident."

* * *

Dum dum dum! Okay, yeah, so, a little dramatic. But next chapter begins the actual story, and since it is done, I can post it very quickly ... well, as quickly as you'd like me to, that is. Alright, lovelies, you know what makes my heart happy? Knowing people have read. And my heart would rather be happy than sad.


	4. Chapter Three: Midnight In Her Eyes

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Midnight In Her Eyes" as performed by The Black Keys, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **As stated before, here are the main character's ages during this chapter, just to clear up any questions. This will be last time they're given. Promise.

**Bella**: 23 years old  
**Edward**: 26 years old  
**Emmett**: 28 years old

* * *

**Chapter Three:****  
Midnight In Her Eyes**

_I see her everywhere  
Long amber hair  
Calling out my name  
I'm calling just the same_

"_Midnight In Her Eyes" – The Black Keys_

x0x0x0x0x0x

**Nine Years Later**

"Hey, Bells, you want 'em all in your room, or just the ones that say 'room'?"

Rolling my eyes, I ran the back of my hand across my forehead in an attempt to wipe away the salty liquid that had decided to congregate there. Sadly, the action served only to pool more sweat above my eyebrows, which then proceeded to drip directly into my eyes. I growled under my breath. Damn southern humidity. And me with no AC. Where was my good-for-nothing roommate when I needed her?

As I stood from my crouched position next to the disassembled iron pieces of what should have been my bed, I realized with disdain that my entire body was encased in a thin layer of sticky sweat, which then proceeded to coat everything I touched. Good grief. I fingered the slick allen wrench – also disgustingly covered in my sweat – and swiped a stray bit of hair from my mouth.

"Do you think I would have labeled them 'kitchen' if I wanted them in my bedroom?" My bone-straight brown hair was slipping from its pony tail under its own sweaty weight as I marched my way down the stairs of the townhouse apartment. I stared into the foyer, tiny fists clenched against my hips in an attempt to make my willowy, five-foot-four frame look intimidating. I then stuck out my tongue. "Learn to read, Emmett McCarty."

Emmett heaved the two boxes in his arms on top of two other boxes that were already stacked on top of each other and scowled playfully.

"Honestly, Bells, I just kinda figured the only place you'd have to put stuff would _be _in your room. How the hell does one person have so much cra – ow!"

A small hand shot out from behind Emmett's massive frame and simultaneously swatted at the base of the neck and clawed at his ear as its tiny owner quickly slipped between him and the door frame.

"It's not crap, Godzilla," the owner of the hand spat. Her tiny black flats practically slid across the hardwood floor in her rush to wrap her arms around my neck and throw us both into a disheveled heap on the carpeted landing. "I'm sooooo glad you're here!" she squealed at a pitch only dogs should have been able to hear.

Unfortunately, her squeal occurred directly beside my ear and I flinched away, dragging Alice with me and smacking us both into the edge of the bottom step, irregardless of her iron grip on my upper body.

"Down, girl," I chuckled, hugging the wiry girl back tightly in spite of of my protestations.

"So this little brat is your new roomie?" Emmett whined and I looked up to find him rubbing his ear, which had turned a pretty shade of tomato red. Alice released my neck and stood to her feet in one graceful movement, curtsying.

"The one and only." Her light southern drawl echoed in her petite voice. She leaned over to take my hand and pull me from the floor, as only a polite southern lady would, and then sauntered into the fully furnished living room, tossing a small beaded clutch onto the enormous chaise lounge.

"And don't think you didn't deserve it." She paused and swiped her hand across her forehead. "You two really should have turned the AC on," her voice echoed behind her as she traipsed past the kitchen, flicked open a cabinet, peered inside for a few seconds, and then finally disappeared through a doorway into another room. I heard the air rush through the vents in her wake.

Emmett raised an eyebrow in disbelief and whistled through his teeth.

"Geez, Bells. Looks like you may get your wish after all." I raised an eyebrow in question as I lifted the lighter kitchen box into my arms and started through the living room, Emmett trailing behind me with the other two boxes. "My visiting hours will seriously diminish if the shrew doesn't pull out her talons and find a sense of humor sometime soon."

I frowned, completely ignoring the knocks on Alice. Not everyone loved her for her abrupt and overt personality as much as I did.

"I never said I wanted to see you less," I pouted.

"You sure as hell aren't showing it, moving all the way across the country," he shot back.

The disapproving tone dripped through his words and I clenched my jaw, physically restraining myself from rolling my eyes and hissing at the one friend I still had besides Alice. It wouldn't matter anyhow. He'd never understand. And, if I were to be truly honest with myself, I hoped beyond everything that he never would.

Instead, I bit my bottom lip and finished the trek to the huge, impeccably designed, fully stocked kitchen and set my one measly box down on the countertop. I spun around and leaned up against the granite island, grabbing two perfectly matched kitchen towels from where they hung on the pot rack and tossed one to Emmett, along with a pleadingly sympathetic look.

"Look, Em … you _know_." I rubbed the material across my neck and then around my face, squeezing my eyes shut. I knew every detail of the look he'd see on my face. It was one that I had perfected after years of careful practice – an image of calm relaxation that was, most importantly, _okay_. "You know I couldn't stay there. There's nothing on that coast for me anymore. Besides," I threw the cloth down on the countertop, "It's a _great_ job offer. And it came at the perfect time." I smiled automatically, throwing waves of contentment his way.

The pain that throbbed behind my words stayed hidden. I heard him sigh in defeat.

"Fine. But you know how we all feel about this, Bells –"

My eyes snapped open, my calm gone.

"We?" I barked a sharp laugh. "Em, I know _you_ give a shit, but there is no _'we'_ to consider. A once a year phone call does not exactly make her front runner for 'mother-of-the-year,' much _less_ give her permission to be _involved_ in my life." I swept past Emmett, grabbing another box from the foyer and marching up the stairs towards my room.

"Bella," I heard Emmett's low, irritated moan at the same time I heard his massive frame stomp up the stairs behind me and into my room. I let the hefty box fall from my arms to burst on the floor, one side of the cardboard ripping open to release a landslide of books. I grabbed the allen wrench out of my pocket and went back to working furiously on the mismatched pieces of metal. Emmett's footfalls stopped on the inside of my doorframe.

"Bells, you know I didn't mean it that way." A sigh. "Mom, Dad, Angela, Ben … and me. We're gonna miss you like crazy." Another sigh at my obvious attempt to ignore him.

I knew I was being unreasonable – volatile, even – but that didn't stop me from feeling it. Anger and sarcasm, irrational or not, were the only emotions I _didn't_ have to hide. Even if it meant that I was kind of completely intentionally hiding _behind_ them, as Alice loved to state when I wanted to physically maim her.

The hard metal of the wrench clanked loudly against the metal of the bed frame and slipped from my hand, jamming my knuckles into the upturned ledge. I hissed, bringing the scraped knuckles to my lips. My eyes watered sharply, and a blaze of anger licked up even hotter until a soft hand on the top of my head doused the flame. I released a pent up breath and removed the offended knuckles from my mouth.

"I know, Em. I'm sorry." I blinked back the water that lined the edges of my lids. I had kept the tears at bay for nine years; there was no way they were going to get through now. Emmett's giant hand ran backwards through my hair, yanking my disastrously deceased ponytail into its final stages of mortality and flinging the rubber band onto my knee.

"Of course you're sorry … I know how sad you'll be not to see this handsomeness every weekend," Emmet gestured to his body and then proceeded to thrust his pelvis towards my face and strike his best (and the most ridiculous) underwear model pose. A small smile, partially formed in disgust, slipped through as I looked up at my best friend. I resisted the urge to sock him in the nuts.

"Besides," he dropped the stance and crouched next to me, snatching the allen wrench from my hand, "It really _is_ a great job. With perfect timing."

"I know." I snickered and grabbed a second allen wrench from the pile of screws, nuts, and bolts. "Also, just know, if you _ever_ stick your crotch in my face again – I will have your nuts either on my camera or in my hand. And yes, you can take that as a promise." I pulled my hair off of my neck, rewound my ponytail, and pulled the metal rods back into my lap to continue my work.

I saw Emmett throw a long, somewhat nervous glance my way as he proceeded to piece together his side of the bed, but the two of us continued to work in silence until my flamboyant roommate flounced in the door twenty minutes later. I had just finished yanking the last screw into place as Emmett threw the box spring and mattress onto the frame – a flying Alice coming rather sequentially after it.

Her mid-thigh length peasant skirt billowed out as she leaped onto the newly completed structure and then rolled over onto her back, lifting her upper body by her forearms and turning to grin at me.

"No," I shook my head immediately, pulling myself to my feet and moving to reposition the book avalanche I had created earlier from the floor to its proper home on the bookshelf.

"Yes," she replied, and I rolled my eyes in resignation – I knew that tone well from our days at the Academy of Art in San Francisco. It was the tone she had inherited from her southern-money-born-and-bred mother, the epitome of politely overbearing authority that no one within hearing range would dare disobey.

"It's your first night in the city, and from the non-appearance of mister double-fives, I think a night on the town is in order – the obligatory antidote for breakups and boring weekend nights." She smiled sweetly and pushed herself off the bed, strolling over to my closet and beginning to hang up the clothing that hadn't already been unpacked.

I rolled my eyes at Alice's seeming assistance and her mention of my latest fling, Bryant, while brushing the slightest pinch of discomfort out of my system (even _I_ hadn't really thought he would last) and opening my mouth to cite jet-lag as a plausible excuse. Unfortunately, Emmett beat me to the punch and the words that spilled from his lips were not what I was expecting.

"That's a great idea, Bells!"

The enthusiasm in his voice was undeniable and my mouth dropped open in shock. I spun around to find him offering Alice a secretive two-thumbs up and the book in my hand automatically flew at his head. Emmett ducked, expecting the blow. The book bashed harmlessly off of the wall.

I threw like a girl.

Scowling, I turned towards Alice who was organizing my closet by occasion, designer, season, and color, in descending order.

"He wasn't number fifty-five," I humphed, crossing my arms over my chest and completely ignoring the other subject altogether. "And what, you can't even learn their names now?"

She shrugged her tiny shoulders and continued sorting through my clothing.

"Yes, he was, believe me, I've kept count since freshman year, and honestly, after number thirty-two I really couldn't see the point. Besides … they started coming and going way too fast." She turned and looked at me pointedly. "I bet you can't remember all their names either."

"I—" I floundered, finally landing on the bed, deflated. "Fine. Where are we going?"

Alice hung the last item on the rack in my closet and turned, her bright green eyes lighting up and a wide, genuine smile plastered onto her face.

"Really, Bella, you'll go?" She leaped onto the bed behind me and wrapped her arms around my chest. "You're going to have the best time!"

I laughed, unable to resist the anticipation, a la Alice.

"Alright, okay, but seriously, where are we going?" I pried her hands from around my waist and leaned back against the bottom bed post, eyes shut.

"Rosie's fiancé's band is playing at Primal tonight, around eleven, for their Most Wanted Saturdays, and I can't wait for them to meet you." Her enthusiasm practically radiated into the room. "I know Rose and Trevor will just _love_ you!"

Rose, better known to Southern society as Rosalie Whitlock, was Alice's ex-roommate, and her fiancé was the reason I was moving in. The two were getting married in three months and had decided that Rosalie moving into their future apartment early was the best plan, leaving Alice with an empty spot and me with a place to live in order to take up my new photography job.

However, the fact that Alice and Rosalie had been attached at more than just the hip for many years before I _ever_ came along and stole Alice's attention in college was more than enough to provide a sense of weariness at whether or not said former roommate would "love" me as much as Alice claimed. I needed an out, just in case.

"Emmett?" I knew my eyes were pleading, but he held up his hands and stepped backwards, physically bracing himself for my wrath. "You got me into this!"

"I'm sorry, Bells, I gotta catch a flight at 8:30 back to LA. All the coaches have a meeting with the Board of Directors at USC tomorrow morning." He shrugged apologetically. I knew my face had fallen because I could see it in his eyes, but Alice chose that precise moment to begin bouncing on her knees behind me in an excitement that was hard to resist.

"Perfect! We'll have dinner at 6:00 at Top Flr and then you and I can go shopping for some more … appropriate attire, and then meet Rose at Primal at ten."

Ideas blossomed.

"You know, Alice, I think I'll just be more than comfortable in jeans."

The gasp of utter astonishment was all the reward I needed. I felt the bed shudder as the small interior designer to my left pretended to fall out in shock. Emmett just laughed.

"Isabella Marie Swan," she griped into the comforter, finally lifting herself off of the bed and bouncing to her feet, "I will _not_ allow you out of the house and into the hottest club in Atlanta on a Saturday night in a pair of jeans!" Her small foot punctuated her statement with a delicate stomp. "Now, I'm going to my room to get ready and monkey man here can make himself at home on the couch. We will be leaving in forty-five minutes."

Alice ran a hand through her long black hair and blew out a sigh. Her constant smile reappeared as she gave me a quick hug, nearly sprinted from the room, and tossed her words behind her. "I know you're going to have a great time tonight, Bella. Just wait and see!"

"I wouldn't bet money on it," I murmured. Emmett began to laugh. I raised an eyebrow. "You're the one who got me into this, you bastard," I scowled shoving him through the doorway and turning to my closet as Emmett closed the door behind him. Still laughing too hard to protest.

Exactly forty-two minutes and five hours later, I had said goodbye to the closest family I had and successfully averted near disaster by convincing Alice that it was more beneficial for me to be seen in something less ostentatious than her bright red and white, single-strap mini. Instead, I managed to work my way into a strapless, thigh length black dress with a whale-boned corset and crinoline edging that actually wasn't horrible.

From the passenger seat, I heard Alice tap her heeled foot on the gas pedal in impatience as I took my time applying a light sheen of ice blue shadow. I was considering slowing down even more when she let out a strangled groan.

"Bella! You're taking _forever_."

Rolling my eyes, I rubbed on the finishing touches and snapped the lid shut, raising my eyebrows in the mirror as I pinned back the a few bits of stray hair that had fallen out of my loose bun.

"And _you're_ acting like a three year old on chocolate and crack," I replied, flipping the visor closed and throwing Alice a pointed look. "What's so important that you're practically clawing to get out of the car, anyhow?"

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at me.

"For your information, I wanted you to meet Trevor and the band _before_ the performance, but now that it's past ten thirty, I guess we'll just have to wait till _after_." She paused, followed by an exasperated sigh. "Are you _done_ yet?"

I smiled to myself, rifling through my small beaded clutch to make sure I only had cash and my id, snapped it shut, and opened the door to the car.

"Now I am," I replied, climbing from the vehicle and following the little pixie who wasted no time in shooting around to my side, grabbing me by the arm, and practically dragging me towards the front of the line that extended around the side of the building. I had never been gladder that my powers of persuasion had convinced the fashion guru to allow me to wear strappy, two-inch heels – I would have been on my face faster than we had left the car in Alice's five-inch pumps.

Within seconds, we had approached the bouncer, Alice had given her name, and I was whirled into an enormous room, complete with live music, an extensively stocked bar, low lighting, and complementary smoker's haze. I looked around as Alice kept hold of my hand and dragged me towards the bar, and I had to admit I was fairly impressed. So far, it trumped most every club I had been to on the west coast by a mile.

Then again, I probably could have never gotten _within_ a mile of a club of this rank on the west coast.

Being a VIP had its perks.

By the time my amateur fascination with my surroundings had faded to the back of my mind, I realized that both Alice and a blonde, kind-looking man standing behind the bar were staring at me expectantly. I opened my mouth and abruptly shut it, glancing sheepishly at Alice who rolled her eyes.

"_Drink_, Bella," she motioned towards the blonde whose blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "Jasper here can make you whatever you want. He's the best bartender this side of the Mississippi." She grinned. He looked down and then glanced back to me. I raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I've been a lot further than the Mississippi, so let's see how you stack up against San Francisco, shall we?" I saw Alice roll her eyes again. Jasper's eyes narrowed and his face lit up in amusement.

"I'm always up for a challenge," he replied, the warmest southern drawl highlighting his words. He threw a hand towel over his shoulder and grinned cockily, rubbing his hands together. "Take your best shot." He winked at me. "On the house."

I liked him already.

"Let's go for a gin martini, extra dry, shaken, not stirred, with three olives. And make it a double."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded and the corners of his eyes wrinkled when his smile grew larger.

The breath was sucked out of my lungs, the sudden similarity hitting me square in the chest and shoving a little more salt in the barely open wound.

The same eyes, only green and flecked with gold, the edges crinkled and … alive.

A sharp pain in my left hand pulled me back to reality where I realized that my inhales were coming in short puffs and Alice was staring at me, hints of worry in her bright green orbs. I glanced sideways, glad to see that Jasper was off mixing my drink, forced my breathing to slow itself, and nodded at my slightly stricken friend, easing her fears with my carefully practiced comfort smile.

She nodded back and squeezed my hand again, taking a short sip of her favorite drink, the Naked Cowgirl. I was almost positive she ordered it just to see the look on the bartender's face. She then returned to scanning the crowd, presumably searching for her ex-roommate.

My eyes moved back to the bar, definitely searching for my drink.

Just as the tall blonde bartender walked back over with what looked like perfection in a martini glass, I heard a small squeal from my left and my barstool shook ever so slightly.

"Rose!" Alice called out next to me, lifting her small frame as high as she could and waving one hand delicately in the air. Smiling and thanking Jasper, I took one long sip and drained half of the drink, willing the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach to dissipate. Unfortunately, the liquid courage needed more time to work its magic, and I turned to face my could-be adversary on my own.

The sight that parted the crowd like the red sea and greeted my waiting eyes caused whatever was rolling around in my stomach to drop dead and a hurricane worthy of destroying the state of Texas to begin churning in its place.

The sleek, classic blonde with legs up to her forehead strode through the crowd, a shimmering and lustrous candy apple red dress that had stepped straight off of the Christian Dior runway hanging perfectly at mid-thigh. The scalloped neck and straps emphasized a beautiful collar bone and her radiant blonde hair hung in lose, wavy ringlets that cascaded midway down her back.

Her open-toed black pumps looked as if they had been designed not only for the dress, but also for her feet, elegantly caressing her heels and stopping at the perfect point along her toes, which were painted a flawlessly matching shade of red. And as she approached, I realized that those legs were not only figurative – her nearly five-foot-ten stature made them quite literal as well.

I suddenly wished my heels were _a lot_ taller.

The tall blonde smiled brightly as she embraced Alice, who remained on the barstool; she was taller there than with the extra four inches her shoes allowed her.

"What'll it be, Rose?" Jasper's southern drawl suddenly appeared behind my shoulder. I flinched as she turned to look in my direction.

"Does a mango mojito sound plausible tonight, Jazz?" Her blonde locks fell across her shoulder as she tilted her head and offered up a sweetly coy smile.

"Of course, babe," he winked, slipping off behind the bar top. I glanced away, drawing another long sip from my glass. At this rate, my free drink wouldn't last me much longer. Alice's tinkling laugh rang out beside me.

"Why do you even ask, Rose? You know Jasper'd do anything for you."

Rosalie's warm voice rang saccharine sweet.

"What? There's nothing he wouldn't do for you too."

As Alice laughed again, much more enthusiastically than the comment seemed to warrant, I saw the long legs pace past me. They took a seat on the barstool near mine and I looked up to find a raised eyebrow and a cool smile. Her proffered hand hung in the air between us.

"Nice to meet you …"

"Bella," I filled in, sitting my drink next to me and thanking my guardian angel that the glass slid down the raised edge of the bar and didn't dump into my lap. Alice would have sacrificed me to the fashion god on that very bar.

At the mention of my name, Rosalie's prettily painted lips slid into a round "o." I would have sworn the warmth in her eyes dropped by a few degrees and a guarded look slid up her face as Jasper sat her drink in front of her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, slipping her hand from my grasp and prying her eyes from my face a few seconds later.

"No problem, sis."

Sis. Sister. Wow.

I turned to face the bar just as Jasper offered me a smile and gestured to my nearly empty glass. I could suddenly see the family resemblance in his perfect blonde hair and strong jaw line.

"So, how do I rank up in the competition?"

I popped the last olive into my mouth and smiled, glad to have my attention drawn from the sudden ice queen to my right.

"Well, although Alice _has_ been known to exaggerate in the past," I threw my roommate a sideways glance and then turned back to the bartender, "I'd say she was right on par this time. That was the best martini I've ever had – west or east coast."

Jasper's smile grew even larger and I saw Alice relax immediately, her small stature swelling in what almost seemed like … pride? I snickered to myself in sudden realization and began running through embarrassing matchmaking plans in my head when Rosalie interrupted my train of thought.

"Then why don't you order another?" She smiled, but it seemed forced, and I was slightly disappointed that my initial fears hadn't been wrong. I grinned back at Jasper, whose personality seemed to be the exact opposite of his sibling, and raised my eyebrow, gesturing towards the martini glass.

"Coming right up," he replied, removing the glass from the bar top and leaving to attend to other customers and mix my next martini. I turned back to find Rosalie eyeing me again. The alcohol must have finally taken hold, because I swiveled on my seat to face her head on and propped my elbow on the bar, challenging her with my eyes. Hers narrowed ever so slightly in return.

"Um, Bells, Rose, I'm gonna run to the powder room, okay?" Alice's voice was slightly strained behind me, but I didn't remove my eyes from the woman sitting across from me as I felt Alice's presence vanish.

"So," Rose sat back against her barstool, relaxing ever so slightly but continuing to eye me up and down. I had the distinct feeling that tonight was a make or break situation when it came to her friendship. She took a sip of her mojito.

"You're engaged?" I offered, attempting to start the conversation off by misdirecting to a topic she would hopefully be interested in. I saw her nod, looking off to the stage in the far corner of the club.

"To the lead guitarist," she replied, nodding in the band's direction. I saw a thin man bent over an amplifier as the rest of the band seemed to be ready to start. Rosalie looked back at me. She hadn't taken the bait. "You moved here to start a new job, right?"

I nodded, deciding to play along. The faster she knew I wasn't here to take her place as Alice's one and only, the faster she would plant her claws in someone else. Hell, we might even become good acquaintances.

"I needed to get away from California – LA, Hollywood. Not exactly my scene. Besides," I swallowed another sip from the martini Jasper had just set down on the bar, "a job as a photography editor for Spin Magazine isn't exactly something you pass up." I shrugged. "Alice just happened to have a vacancy." I smiled at her, trying to force something genuine into my gaze. I wasn't sure how well I succeeded. "So … thanks."

Rosalie eyed me again, smiling slightly and raising her glass to me as recognition of my gratitude and took a long draw.

"That's not the only reason she left LA," Alice stepped in-between the two of us, smiling conspiratorially at Rosalie, who returned the look and glanced back at me, her guard rising again. "She'd already conquered the single male of the western frontier," the little pixie laughed, "now she needs to see what she can find on the east coast!"

I felt my cheeks burst into flame as I placed the martini glass to my lips and stared through to the bottom of the clear liquid. Alice was going to pay for that.

When I looked back up, Rosalie was staring at me in amusement, Alice leaning against the bar between us and still laughing into her drink. She never could hold her alcohol.

"Not to be intrusive," Rosalie motioned towards me, "but what's your count?"

"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, the flame in my cheeks running higher from shame mixed with copious amounts of liquor. Alice, once again, answered for me.

"Oh, she doesn't have one," she motioned absently, closing her eyes and bobbing her head to the classic Journey cover that the crowd was going wild for. "Little miss virginal, here. Bella's never been past first base with all fifty-five."

She had to yell louder with each word, didn't she? Punk-ass … I now had an obligation to put her through some torment with this Jasper-thing, Ashton Kutcher style.

Rosalie eyed me with even more interest than before.

"Fifty-five?" It was a question of astonishment. "Wow Bella … that's … quite a number."

I wished I could drown in my martini. Forget payment. Alice was dead to me.

"I just – I haven't –" I stuttered, breathing in and regrouping myself mentally. This one little slip would not destroy me. "I haven't really figured out what I'm looking for yet."

Rosalie nodded, visibly amused.

"Obviously," she grinned into her drink when Alice's hands suddenly flew from out of nowhere and grabbed on to both Rosalie's and my leg.

"Finally! They're doing some original stuff and Trevor's starting them off," she squealed, bouncing slightly on her toes and looking to Rosalie, whose visage softened clearly. The loud strum of a guitar rang through the air, followed by the opening chords. The sound floated inside the low hum of the crowd and I turned back to the bar. My mind was racing for both a way to destroy my best friend and to recoup from the awful disaster she had created.

"_Midnight is in her eyes …_"

Someone must have either really liked the glasses inside of that particular bar or known that I would need the alcohol they contained, because my martini was sitting on the bar top inside of my grasp when I froze, my gaze fixed on the bottles of liquor lining the mirrored wall.

"_Tear drops like a child … you never thought about goin' wrong … Now you wonder where your man has gone …_"

It came from my memory at the same time as it swirled around me now, blending together in perfect harmony – only the words were different, the meaning lost in the sound of his voice. I had to turn around. I had to turn around and prove myself wrong. My dead best friend had not suddenly come back to life, singing to me inside of this trendy bar in uptown Atlanta.

"_Midnight is in her eyes."_

But I stayed frozen, unable to turn and end the dream that would be cut short by reality. My eyes slid shut and my hand automatically pulled to my collarbone, my head tilting back in pleasure as the voice blended with the music and wafted across my spellbound state.

"_Lately you're feeling low … Heartache on the floor … your manic ways have got the best of you, but your heart is gonna see you through …_"

Finally the chorus ended and the guitar solo took over, the notes strung out in the air as most of the crowd jumped and cheered. Released from my trance, I dropped my eyes to the bar, shocked at the speed at which my pulse raced. A part of me was already searching for his face in my mind, begging me to look up, find him, and run to him.

I buried that part under the reality that it was Rosalie's fiancé Trevor that had provided the heartbreaking memories through the sound of his voice. This, along with the solid reality that I had stood by his coffin, screamed at his graveside, and told him for many years that he was a coward for breaking his promise, was my mantra for many moments. But, for some reason, my memories still defied me and, for the safety of my own sanity, I refused to look beyond the liquor balanced steadily in my hand – until Alice took my other hand.

"Isn't he amazing, Bella! Adorable, too," she grinned, turning my barstool and pushing my head towards the stage.

Later, when I had time to consider it, I was surprised I didn't go into cardiac arrest.

For the moment, all I could see was a shock of dark auburn hair, made darker by the light amount of sweat from standing under hot stage lights. His eyes were shut as his fingers raced across the strings, finishing up the series of solos. Then he leaned back towards the mic and opened his mouth, sliding across the notes that stung with the guitar and dragged nails through my stomach and across my soul.

"_I see her everywhere … long amber hair … calling out my name … I'm calling just the same …"_

His eyelids parted – emerald green so bright that I could see them from across the smoky haze, almost more familiar to me than my own reflection. They bored into me, a brilliantly beautiful smile lighting his entire face and shining though his eyes. His head turned in our direction and he seemed to be staring at me, through me, into what _was_ me. Singing. To me. For me.

"…_it's in her eyes … midnight … is in her … eyes …"_

My heart skipped three full beats and I almost slid from the barstool.

"Bella?" I vaguely heard Alice mumble something next to me, but my comprehension was lost in his gaze. It wasn't. It couldn't. I had seen it … seen him buried, seen everything, memories that were still so real to me almost ten years later, I fought them back every day.

But … it was.

The memories strangled me, the kind of pain that numbs your entire body until somehow nothing seems centered or real. The whispered word slipped from my lips, ripping the shallow wound in my heart wide open and into shredded pieces before I could even think to stop it.

"Edward?"

* * *

Who thinks ghosts are scary?


	5. Chapter Four: Welcome to the Floor

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Heart Skipped A Beat" as performed by the XX or "Rain" as performed by Patti Griffin, and I will not be earning income from using these materials, although I will pimp them out and say that they should be listened to. Wonderful music. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **Keeping this quick, I promise. Just wanted to say a HUGE thank you to those who have taken the time to review. You are all awesome, and you make my heart sing. Most especially **SapphireSage**, your awesomeness and willingness to be the first reviewer, and keep reviewing, makes you a wickedly awesome person. Huzzah to you.

A HUGE thank you to the awesome, amazing, wonderful, talented, funny, gorgeous (don't deny it), and sweet woman who keeps my commas in line, and 'that' out of my southern twang ... **clarabella75**, you have been my lifesaver. Thank you for popping my beta-cherry and working me in slowly ... heh. If you haven't checked out her lovely work, you most definitely should. She's awesome.

**

* * *

Chapter Four:  
Welcome to the Floor**

"_It's been a while  
And you've found someone better  
But I've been waiting too long to give this up  
The more I see I understand  
But sometimes … I still need you_

_Heart skipped a beat  
And when I caught it  
You were out of reach  
But I'm sure, I'm sure …  
Sometimes … I still need you"_

"_Heart Skipped a Beat" – The XX_

* * *

"_Five … Six … Seven …"_

_The dirty branches grabbed her shirt as she sprinted through the trees, tiny bare feet padding on the open dirt like a kitten at play. When her foot caught on a stray branch, she squelched the small cry of pain that rose in her throat and kept running, giggling to herself as his voice faded in the distance. His count slowed with each numbered yell._

"_Eight … nine …"_

_Her breath came in small pants now. The top of her foot was stinging and brought tears to her eyes, but still she ducked behind the large pine to her right, dragging her fingertips along the bark. They started to sting like her foot. _

"…_ten! Ready or not, here I come!" _

_His voice resounded through the forest, bouncing off the trunks and around the leaves before finally making its way to her hiding place. Her heart pounded frantically in her ears. She stilled her breathing and shut her eyes, listening for his footsteps in the leaves. The only sound was the air sucking in between her lips, the steady chirping of the birds in the tree above her, and the faint soothing ripple of the river in the distance._

_He always stomped harder when he got close to where he thought she was hiding. She panted softly, squeezing her eyelids together and counting to ten under her breath. Her eyes popped open and her brows furrowed in confusion. She really should have heard him by –_

"_Gotcha!" _

_His voice was loud in her ear, and she leapt from her place on the ground. Screams and giggles rained from her parted lips, breaking the noise as she slipped through the loose circle of his arms, racing off towards the sound of the river and the "safe" zone. _

_Fauna and flora were crushed ruthlessly beneath her bare feet, and her breath hung heavy in her chest, fighting with her body for the oxygen needed to maintain her dead sprint. She could still hear him behind her, gaining ground. So focused was she on placing him behind her, she didn't notice the cool moistening of the ground beneath her feet. Her legs splashed abruptly into water, her small legs enveloped almost to her knees, and she wavered, her feet fighting to keep her balance firm in the muck beneath her. _

_A passing warning sped through one side of her consciousness and out the other, her parents' recent conversation on how the heavy snow melting had raised the banks of the river – but she was _so close._ She could see the bench sitting on the rock ledge, a dry haven. A small tributary flowed between her and the bench, the only obstacle between victory and defeat._

_And she had never lost a game. _

_She trudged through, the water rising to her waist. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth in a show of frustration as her feet threatened to slide, but they managed to hold steady. _

_She really _was_ the best. She would keep her record, no matter what. _

"_Izzy!"_

_His voice was distant, but the slightly incredulous air caught her attention. _

_He was surprised she could do it. _

_She turned to stick her tongue out in victory, only three steps away from reaching dry ground, and then she was wet, her head splashing hard against running water, though it felt more like slate. Her ankle stung as it twisted sharply underneath her and thrashed against the algae-covered rock._

_Her arms flapped upwards, pulling the rushing water beneath her. She broke the surface and grabbed a lungful of air, while her hands fumbled beneath her, scrambling through the muck for something to grab on to. A loud crashing filled her ears, and her lungs burned from the water she had swallowed in surprise. _

_The realization hit her as hard and as sudden as the pain in her ankle – she was headed for the river. _

_As soon as her brain processed her direction, a firm hand caught hold of her wrist and she felt herself being pulled against the current. Her clothes tugged at her, pulling her further into the steady flow of the water, until an arm wrapped around her waist. The water swirled around her as she was dragged against its natural flow, and the weight lifted. She landed roughly on the rock, her mouth flying open to gasp for air. _

_Immediately, she turned and buried her head in the shoulder of her rescuer, whose arm was still tucked firmly around her shoulders. Warmth radiated out from him and into her chilled skin. His lanky body was so much taller than hers – the upper half of his torso wasn't even wet. Sniffling, she tried not to burst into tears as he pulled her up and into his lap. _

"_It's okay, Izzy, you're safe. I got you," he murmured. She tried to turn over, but a sharp pain laced through the lower part of her left leg, and she winced. _

"_Edward," she mumbled, coughing, "my leg … it really hurts." _

_She heard him hiss through his teeth. _

"_We need to get you home and to a doctor." He shifted under her weight. "Will you be okay if I pick you up?"_

_Even the slightest tinge of movement hurt. She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. He lifted her in one smooth motion, but her ankle still stung. Every step he took was like a small knife working its way through her skin._

"_Edward …" she resisted sticking her thumb into her mouth. Instead she cleared her throat and looked up into his bright green eyes, her smile as wide as she could make it and her chin quavering bravely. "You found me."_

_He chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Yeah, I found you, for once." He planted a kiss on her wet forehead and adjusted her weight in his arms. "That just means next time, it'll be your turn to find me." _

* * *

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" I vaguely heard Alice murmur beside me, but her attention never truly turned her towards me.

Woodenly, I willed my neck to turn, my gaze falling on the girl beside me in a trance worthy of any Buddhist monk. My vision slowly filtered through, until my focus narrowed on the self-satisfied blonde behind her. The scene abruptly rocketed back into real time.

The air exploded into a massive crash of catcalls, whistles, and applause. Alice began to jump up and down, joining the crowd in her enthusiasm. Rosalie sat back, warmly smug and rightly proud.

I slid off of the bar stool unthinkingly. My knees gave underneath me, and I caught myself, the heels of my hands digging into the sharp wooden rim of the bar.

Oh.

So that was why I couldn't feel my legs. They were completely numb.

The drummer began another count and the guitar strummed.

I shut my eyes and mentally screamed, unable to move from the one place I _never_ wanted to be again. It was like replaying the most gruesome murder in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre – only this time I was _in_ the movie, the fully perceptive victim.

I was paralyzed.

I swore in an instant to sacrifice my camera, my firstborn, and my original Ansel Adams if there was only _some way_ for me to wake from the hallucinatory nightmare I was currently living.

A lilting, and distinctly feminine, voice wove its way into the music and through the cheers of the crowd.

Heaven-sent release, as thought I was being dunked in ice water, washed through me. Unfortunately, the breaking of the trance left a shaft of nausea stabbing through to my spine, working into my every pore, until I swallowed and felt the gin rising up my throat.

I shoved myself away from the bar and almost fell again as my world began to tilt, but I couldn't stop. Pushing my way into the throng at my left, I ignored Alice's faint call from behind me and the mingling sounds of indignation from others in the crowd as I shoved past them. I might not have been a Moses like Rosalie, but I sure as hell was going to force my way through the water.

My hands hit the bathroom door with a hard smack, and I shoved past the annoyed skank who looked as if she had been going for the exit. My stomach and head spun in synchronous motion.

"Excuse me?" her nasal voice rang in my ears, not assisting me in my goal of never hearing again. And yet, all I wanted was to hear, everything and nothing at once, a swirl of memories distant and fresh, all juxtaposed and backwards until I couldn't see, hear, think, or speak.

"Move," I growled, the only word I could push through lips that felt as though they had decided to represent the way the rest of me felt – dry, cracking, and peeling against a total rejection of every other sense.

I don't know what caused her to obey, but obey she did, leaving me gratefully alone as I grabbed hold of the first porcelain sink I could find and proceeded to watch everything I had eaten in the last twenty four hours swirl down the drain in a dizzying array of colors.

I felt my stomach hollow out. My fists slipped against the hard surface; a cold sweat wrapped itself around my hands and coated the back of my neck. The sink began to shake under my fingertips, a vibration that nearly forced me backwards into the wall behind me. It wasn't until my shoulders pressed into the cold metal of the stall I realized I had been the one shaking. I willed them to stop, but my traitor hands continued to tremble, unresponsive to any will I might have had left.

Alive.

No, dead.

His name clogged like a lump in my throat. I was unable to create even the sounds inside of the commotion steadily rising to a tremor in my mind. I swallowed the hard lump down, shoving myself inside of the stall and firmly locking the door behind me. My hand remained pressed against the wall in an effort to keep my body upright. Bile rose in my throat, a burning acid that complimented my throbbing head and rolling stomach.

Dead.

I had seen it.

The memories rolled in like waves, night black in a tempestuous ocean slamming upon my fragile consciousness.

"_Isabella … there's … there's been … an accident." _

_Edward Anthony Masen _

_Beloved Son. _

_June 20, 1984 – September 30, 2001_

_Grey granite. Grey coffin. Grey ground. Grey sky._

"_You … you … lied! You … promised!"_

"_Isabella, you should come home." Silence. "Isabella."_

"_No."_

_Rain. Cold, hard, wet. So much rain. All salt, beads on my tongue that dropped, one by one. Pierced my shoulders, sank through layers of cotton. Rain. _

_Hollow. Empty. No more. _

"_Izzy?" Emmett._

"_It's Bella now, Em."_

The hollow aching began again, weaving its way up my spine. I felt the tendrils of fear begin to spread through my veins, ice cold spikes that aimed directly for some place in the center of me.

Everything I had worked to hide, everything I had buried began to clamber to the surface. Pain, waves and waves of pain. An ocean of pain to dip myself into and only come out scalded. That's what it had become now, my suppression, years of hiding released in a scalding geyser of pain.

Sometimes it's all you can do to make it to the end. The end of whatever – the day, the task, the moment, the emotion, the thought.

The pain.

I was at the end – the end of my rope.

Dead.

No, alive.

Hacking coughs ripped through my body, one word swimming in my head and sinking into my stomach. It had been so many years, trying years I had spent hiding from the pain … so long since I had heard the name. So long since it had passed across my lips. My throat opened. My mind spun until my eyelids slid shut. Focus.

"Edward."

Barely a whisper, and yet the pain began to retreat, back to the place I had buried it once before. I felt it there, still throbbing, still scratching at the inside, but bearable … manageable … livable.

The bile stained the back of my throat, but the water I sipped in handfuls from the sink washed most of the acridness back where it belonged. Taking one deep breath, I raised my gaze to the mirror, expecting the ravaged beast of war that should have come across in my reflection.

But it was only me. Hair, makeup, jewelry still intact. A look on a disembodied face that was oddly … disappointed.

Where were the gaping wounds on my heart, the inner places torn to shreds? Where were the guts hanging out and the spine, twisted grotesquely from pain? Where were the scalding burns, hot and wicked, wrapping twisted, angry red marks across my skin?

Where were the tears?

There were no lines, no streaks, no shreds – nothing but the inner wreckage to represent the pain, to tell the world that I suffered.

There was just … me.

"Bella …"

I started at my name, the hand that had absently wondered to my cheek dropping to my side. Alice's face was creased with worry in the mirror. Her hand was cold against my bare back.

"Are you feeling okay?" she murmured, the sides of her mouth pulling up in a weak smile, encouraging me, but I could hear the true concern in her tone. Alice wasn't all southern sugar and shallowness.

But even she wouldn't know the truth, my truth.

A weak smile I prayed was convincing enough reappeared on my lips.

"Yeah," I grabbed a disposable towel from the wire bin on the counter top. "I guess I downed those martinis faster than I thought." Automatically my hands dabbed at the corners of my mouth, drying the remnants of water. Alice smiled, relief written on her face. Her hand found my arm.

"You do look a little green around the edges, sweetie. A little water should fix you right up, though."

She patted my hand, and I allowed her to lead me from the restroom, grasping at the last few straws of myself in the moments I had left. A mantra formed, almost reaching my lips before I sealed them shut.

_He is dead. Trevor is alive. He is dead. Trevor is alive. _

With each step I could feel the sentence vibrate through my body, becoming reality. It was the truth. He was dead, and no wishing on any living rock stars could bring him back again. Trevor was here, and no matter the resemblance, I would not let myself come to such ridiculous conclusions.

I was so caught up in my mantra, it wasn't until we reached the bar that I noticed the music was no longer live. The band must have finished their set. And Rosalie was nowhere to be found.

I slid into a bar stool, breathing a mental sigh of relief, and looked up into the brilliant blue eyes of the kindest bartender. He was also my new best friend and lifesaver.

"Figured you might could use this," he drawled, sliding a towering glass of ice water and two Advil over the bar top. I didn't particularly need the Advil, but I figured playing along to keep Alice happy wouldn't hurt.

"Do you always come in this handy, or is it just the friends of the pretty ones you cater to?" I smiled, tossing back the medication. Jasper's chuckle was deep, and I saw Alice look away out of the corner of my eye. Her hand on my arm tightened imperceptibly.

"I cater to _all_ pretty girls," he leaned across the bar top. I saw his eyes flicker to Alice's turned face. "But I must admit, I guess I have been caught. I do take special care of the beautiful ones' friends."

In an instant he swept away, moving to a new customer who had appeared down the bar, just as Alice's head shot back around faster than an elastic band, her eyes wide as tiny moons.

"I –" she stuttered. I wanted to laugh, but the rest of me hadn't quite recovered from my own battle. My vision cleared on the glass in front of me, and I took another long draw of the water, my new found mantra regaining the foreground in my head.

Just in the nick of time.

"Hey."

I choked, the water spilling from my mouth and back into the glass. Alice recovered from her stupor faster than I, and her instant social graces saved me for a few moments.

"Hey, Trevor, you guys were fantastic tonight!" she gushed, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Cause we suck every other night …"

Alice's laugh was a high pitched ring. I heard the slap of a hand on cloth.

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean. You're always great."

_He is dead. Trevor is alive. _

He chuckled. The sound ripped through my gut. Rosalie cleared her throat.

"Bella, I'd like to introduce you to my fiancé."

My time was up. Her voice was saccharine sweet, and I could hear the overtones of her attempts at politeness from where I sat. She was trying to be nice. I couldn't play the bitch card. Damn her.

_He is dead. Trevor is alive. He is dead. Trevor is alive._

I stood, planting my feet, wobbling slightly in my heels. But somehow, I did it. I turned around. I did not fall. I stepped forward.

"Hi."

A young man, clad in a fitted, blue cotton shirt and jeans, one hand clenched in his fiancée's, smiled softly, crookedly. My heart stopped.

The dark reddish-brown hair spread out in messy waves, pieces falling haphazardly into his eyes, somehow limp and yet alive. Electric green eyes smiled into mine, their color fading into to a glowing brown that glistened with golden specks flickering in the low light. A rough shadow made places of his chin and cheeks grainy, rough. The smile. The face.

The smile.

_He is … dead …_

The words echoed between my ears, everything occurring in mere milliseconds so only the briefest gap occurred between my words.

"Hi … I–I'm Swan," I stumbled. I cleared my throat, and felt a deep blush that must have come from my toes. I smiled. I recovered. "Bella Swan."

His smile grew.

"Cullen," he leaned over, conspiratorially. The hand previously holding Rosalie's reached out to clasp mine from where it hung, halfway in front of me. "Trevor Cullen."

Alice and Rosalie's laughter at his mimicry became mere background noise.

I flinched away from his skin, but his grasp was so tight, my hand only slid out of his minimally at my rough motion. Heat coursed through my flesh and wound its way around my wrist, temporarily stunning me. I looked up, and his eyes caught mine.

They were taken aback for the briefest moment, narrowing imperceptibly when he leaned backwards. He was still not letting go.

I flexed my hand once. Instantly the pressure was gone, but not the heat. My flesh burned, and I dropped my hand to my side, resisting the urge to clench my fist. Trevor wasn't quite as stealthy. I watched as he slid his hand down the side of his jeans and slipped it into his pocket, noticeably flexing his fingers. He watched me, hints of confusion showing in his gaze until his fiancée retrieved his attention.

"Are you coming tomorrow?" Her look was not overly pleased. She knew he had been distracted – by me. Shit.

"I – um," he muttered. Rosalie rolled her eyes. Alice became his savior, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings.

"I don't think he wants to come to lunch with us _again_, Rose," she smiled. Her face dropped suddenly in horror, as if she had done something unforgivable like forgetting to invite dear Aunt Margaret to the wedding. "Oh, Bella, I never even thought to ask you to come along!"

I smiled as naturally as I could, focusing all my energy on my roommate. I _would_ exit this situation gracefully … even if I fell on my face and died on the way out.

"Considering that you've already dragged me here tonight against my will, I think I'll have to take a rain check."

Her face began to slip into a pout, until Rosalie, of all people, became my savior.

"I think giving Isabella some time alone to settle in would be only polite, Alice." She tore her cutting glance from me and turned her attention to my roommate. "Besides, you and I haven't had time for us in a while."

The biting undertone was no more hidden than a celebrity's baby bump, but her statement cheered Alice and successfully removed me from their lunch plans, so I couldn't begrudge her much.

"Was it worth it, though?"

His voice was quiet. Tinges of an accent that didn't sound like any I had ever heard highlighted his low tenor. My eyes caught his for only a moment, but even the moment was too long.

He was staring at me intently, almost unabashedly now, and I could see the calculation in his eyes. He wanted to see my reaction. For some reason this knowledge struck a sudden chord of anger within me. I stifled the sarcasm on the tip of my tongue, not wanting to endanger my situation as Alice's roommate.

"Yeah, sure," I bit out, choking on the words that my natural defense pressed against my lips.

"I know she had a great time, Trevor, she's just a little jet-lagged at the moment. Mean old me, dragging her out into all hours of the night after she just flew in this morning," Alice glossed over my inherent rudeness, but the pointedly hidden look she shot my way was full of wary questions.

Smiling dolefully at Rose, she stepped over to the bar top and called after Jasper. I turned back to face the bar, leaving the happy couple to themselves. The blonde bartender appeared in a moment. And even though I still had yet to take my eyes off of my friend, I could feel his eyes … still watching me.

_He. Is. Dead._

"I'll see you Tuesday, right?" Alice's voice was quiet beside me.

"Of course, babe," Jasper smiled, winking at her and absently brushing her knuckles with his fingertips as he cleaned out a glass. Her eyes seemed so fixated; I almost hated to pull her away. Almost.

"Alice."

"Okay, okay, we're leaving. Diva," she murmured under her breath.

"Fairy," I shot back, flicking her against the shoulder, distracting myself in the familiar repertoire.

"Princess."

"Dwarf."

"Shut up."

My tongue flew out in victory before I could stop it. I almost bit it off when he started laughing. My heart double timed as the sound filtered in and out of my brain. _Dead …_

I heard Alice and Rosalie behind me, finalizing plans to meet at the sushi bar downtown. His eyes still stared into mine, curiously. They trapped me, leaving reality in a blur of background noises, until a hand clamped itself around my wrist, tugging me from the club and into the thick, muggy night air. I slipped from my trance at the loss of contact, grimacing the instant sweat layered my skin.

Swimming through air was _not_ something I planned on getting used to.

I ran one hand down my arm, attempting to dislodge the liquid, while Alice marched in front of me, silent. Jesus. She was pissed.

Well … whatever. Twenty questions wasn't exactly my game of choice right now either.

Both of us slid into the car, silent. Alice pulled away from the club, her continued silence fair indication to me she still didn't want to talk. Which is why I nearly jumped out of my skin when Alice turned on me.

"So, was it the _challenge_ of winning Rose over that made you into a total bitch tonight, or do you _really_ just enjoy ogling other girls' fiancés for fun?"

Her hands were clenched around the steering wheel as she pulled off onto the interstate.

"I – I," I stuttered, her irate question an unexpectedly abrupt change from the shallow, self-pitying stupor I had previously been occupying myself with. Alice let out a sharp sigh. The sound brought me to my senses.

"Excuse me? Like you gave me a chance!" I turned towards the driver's seat, rolling my hand onto my hip. "'Little miss virginal here. Bella's never been past first base with _all_ fifty-five'," I intoned, pitching my voice at the exact, nasal tone I knew imitated Mrs. Brandon – and bringing Alice face to face with her worst fears.

"I do _not_ sound like my mother!"

"Well, you sure as hell do gossip like her!"

"Better to be my mom than yours! 'I'm Renee, I abandoned my daughter, and sleep with as many men under age twenty-five as I possibly can before I'm old and crusty!'"

"You whore!"

"Slut!"

"Skank."

"Bitch."

"Fine."

I had to give her that one. I sank lower into my seat, pouting and glowering at the dashboard.

"Look, I'm sorry … that was … well, it was a really low blow … I know you can't help your bitch moments … truce?"

I shrugged, indifferent and petulant. Alice took my silence as a yes. I didn't care. I always let her. And both of us knew better than to hold the other's violent temperaments or annoying traits against them. It was just who we were. Her tiny hand tentatively reached across the car and sat on top of my forearm.

"What was up with you tonight, Bella?" Her lips flattened into a line. "You were acting like … like you'd never seen a guy before …" she paused, "… or like you _had _seen him before."

My stomach rolled uncomfortably. I could feel the gin rising in my throat. Again.

"No, I-I … I just …" I sighed, pushing myself upright. It was time. My self had been torn off for too long tonight. The walls slid upwards, clamping firmly into place. I patched the broken pieces, pulled up the torn insides that had been slowly bleeding out. With one more breath, I laid my other hand over Alice's on my wrist.

"I'm sorry, Alice, it's just the jet lag. I swear it's bringing out the worst in me, and God knows how bad I am when I'm normal," I squeezed her fingers. "I promise, I'll make it up to you and her next time … okay?"

A whispered "thank you" was her only reply. But I saw the light smile, and I was surprised to find my own lips curving upwards naturally.

After returning home, Alice and I exchanged a light hug before we parted ways, her promising not to wake me before she left to meet Rosalie, since she had to leave early and slip by her interior design office before lunch.

I performed my nightly ritual and followed it up by shoving any boxes from beside my bed that I knew would impede late night bathroom trips. I slipped quickly between the cool, cotton sheets. My eyes shut immediately, recognizing the time for sleep had come; however, my brain wasn't quite as well-trained.

Finally, I rolled onto my side, tucking my hands underneath my cheek. My eyes opened, transfixed on the dim lights and traffic that still roamed outside of my third story apartment window. My body was fighting a full out civil war.

Brain, intellect, and reason – all three longed to dissect every moment of the evening: the eyes, the hair, the voice, the body, the hand … the heat.

Stomach, heart, and emotions firmly disagreed.

My vote went to heart. I didn't want to analyze anything. I wanted to hide. I had been happy hiding. Maybe my plans for hiding hadn't made me many friends, but that worked for me.

Hope was only a weakness at this point. Love was worse. I didn't need love. I didn't _want_ love. Love only made you drop your guard … and that made you hurt. Again.

One solitary raindrop splashed against the window.

Like the sky was crying _for_ me.

_Dead … or alive?_ I didn't know. Thoughts scattered with every slow breath as the rain began to fall, a slow drizzle that splattered against the window, finally lulling me to sleep. There was only one thing I knew for sure.

I _never _wanted to see Trevor Cullen again.

* * *

The ending of this chapter was specifically inspired by "Rain" by Patti Griffin. Because it is perfection. Thank you for your thoughts and your love. Till next time … je vous espère une bon vie. Á bientôt.


	6. Chapter Five: Into Flames

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Pardon Me" as performed by Incubus, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N**: As always, to my FFA buddy **clarabella75**, your amazing Grammar skills and ability to bring me nearer to correct comma usage in spite of my deathly fear of them warm my heart and make me love you all the more! You are a fantastic person who gets through these and keeps my stuffs together. Thank you for being such an awesome you. :D And guys, she writes! You should go read, cause she's awesome. Also, a huge thank you to all of my reviewers - SapphireSage, FlapperGirl, Kd-Masen, and mesmerizeme, you bring me the same warmth as RPatzz and a cigarette ... only in different places. :P

And I can't forget those silent readers. :) You warm my heart and I hope you are enjoying. Thank you for the love and the Alerts. :)

Also, if you'd like to keep up with some fun pics and teasers for this story, I'll be spreading the love daily at my Facebook page at this name - **Skychaser Fanfic-Reader**. Friend me, cause I'm a social networking h00r! :P And speaking of social networking, if you want to experience some awesome times with the MOST awesome ladies around, you should DEFINITELY check out the **Fanficaholic Anonymous** page and forum, because we rock! :D And if you want to rock, you should join us. Just sayin'.

**

* * *

Chapter Five:  
Into Flames**

"A decade ago,  
I never thought I would be  
at twenty-three, on the verge of  
spontaneous combustion, woe is me …  
I need you to hear,  
I need you to see,  
That I have had all I can take,  
And exploding seems like an imminent possibility to me.  
So pardon me while I burst into flames."

"Pardon Me" – Incubus

* * *

"_Daddy?"_

_My feet, cushioned on the soft ground, pattered noiselessly as I ran, zigzagging through walls of trees, carpeted by thick oriental rugs. _

"_Daddy?"_

_My voice picked up an octave, frantic. Visions, half in shadow, drifted, appearing beside me. I ran, but my small feet never gave me any distance. The trees looked the same. Momma. Grammy. Angie. Over and over again, all looking at me. Worried smiles. I could never get them. I ran. I saw him. The carpet grew thicker under my feet. His smile lit up my world; his rough jaw, hazel eyes, and open arms the safest haven. _

"_Daddy!"_

_I ran. My feet gained ground this time, the shrill cries from my eight year old throat odd to my ears. _

"_Daddy!" _

_He raised one hand in the air. Immediately, my body ground to a halt. I crossed my arms in front of me. I looked forward expectantly, partial complacency competing with my need to simply _hold_ him. My skinny body leaned forward, not understanding. _

"_Daddy?"_

_He smiled. I could see it from here, plain as day, a light to the dark tree line around me. He shook his head. I frowned. My eyelids shut and then opened. It was as though a lens snapped into place, transforming my vision from blurred into perfection. I could see. _

"_Edward." _

_His name was a breath on my lips. Snow covered the ground in thick, heavy layers, warm to my bare feet. I ran. I slid through the snow easily. Only a few meters separated us. _

_He smiled, farther, wider, and happier than my father. _

_My body collided with his, warm silk against pliable flesh. My arms, no longer skinny and short, slid, easily and eagerly, around his torso, buried inside of his over shirt. My cheek pressed against his, savoring the feel of the rough, granular edges and the pull of his cheeks as he smiled. He was warmth, endless and eternal warmth. And he was holding me. _

_He was holding _me_. Not eight-year-old me, but _me_. My lips pressed a small, hard kiss underneath his ear. _

"_Izzy," his voice was rough, granulated honey, sweet and torn, pure and tattered. His arms were growing looser. Mine tightened, pulling my vision over his shoulder. _

_An object sat in the grass behind him, melting puddles of snow surrounding its base. It was cold and hard, grey and granite …_

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

My … life … sucked.

Rolling over, I suppressed the groan and pulled my hair up from over my eyes, glancing at my alarm clock. Which _hadn't_ been set for a damn good reason. The blinking red lights confirmed my irritation – 9:46 a.m. Which meant it _felt_ more like 6:46 a.m.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

I rolled back over, pulling my pillow over my head and feigning sleep.

_Bang bang bang!_

The knocking became more insistent. After a while of lying buried beneath my sheets, my mind reached enough lucidity to realize the banging at the door could very well be my absent-minded roommate who had locked herself out of our apartment. I rolled over and grumbled all the way to the door.

_Bang bang bang bang bang!_

"I'm coming!" My mumbled exclamation probably seemed more like a growl. I cleared my throat and reached for the doorknob.

"Geez, Alice, you're going to tear down the –"

It wasn't Alice.

His hand was raised, waiting to knock again at what was now a wide open door. His mouth was half open, stunned into silence, while his reddish-brown locks, which leaned towards brown in the early morning light, seemed more mussed and grease-ridden than the night before. He was dressed in the exact same clothes, his jeans hanging off of one hip and revealing one side of what – God help me – had to be a twenty pack, that I was ready to baptize … with my tongue.

His hand slipped to his jaw, lithe fingers creating an "L" around his mouth.

"I – uh …" he muttered. Finally, those fingers almost hooked around his lip.

I nearly drooled, until I realized he seemed stunned. Thinking for a few moments, I realized why.

I was standing in the doorway … in my underwear.

A sheer, white, cut-off tank top, with no bra and my underwear, which were pink.

With yellow rubber duckies dancing all over.

"Uh – I – um," I stuttered, my brain attempting to process not only the person standing before me, but the knowledge I was standing, practically nude, in front of him.

"You – uh, you might want to –" he swallowed hard, turning his head, mostly, to the left as one finger pointed towards me. I immediately regained sanity when he broke eye contact.

My first act of clarity?

I slammed the door and raced from the entryway.

A hollow yelp of pain broke my concentration, just enough for me to glance backwards as my foot caught on the raised landing. I fell forward, missing my hands and landing hard on my elbows, but managing to catch myself on my knees. The door creaked open.

"Oh my God, Bella, are you all right?"

_Oh, for fuck's sake …_

Just as I started to pick myself up without further shoving my ass in the air, my hands slid forward on the knit rug on the wood floor. This succeeded in deftly placing me in a perfect downward-facing dog – and my ass perfectly in Trevor's outstretched, helping hand.

I flinched away, so quickly I doubt even high speed cameras would have caught me, and everything would have been fine, if not for my traitor hand. The ill-received body part flew, on its own course, and punched the hump-able, off-limits man at my door in the eye. I cringed.

"Sorry!"

Vaguely, I noticed him fall backwards into the hall closet door as I sprinted up the stairs.

The door cracked loudly behind me. I think I may have broken a hinge.

I listened for a moment. Silence. Well, at least he wasn't a complete pussy.

Grabbing a pair of workout shorts, I pulled them, a bra, and a clean t-shirt on, but just as I reached to pull open the door, I stopped.

Why in hell had the man I had sworn never to see again, so long as Fate and Alice allowed, become the very next person I laid eyes on? Something, or someone, was playing with me. Or just wanted me to be in one hell of a mood.

I stumbled backwards and landed on my bed.

Well … He was here, now what did I do with him?

_Sex?_

No.

I was too horny for my own good.

I finished berating my mental self and moved on. Step one – figuring out why he was here. After fixing his eye, that is. Okay.

Step one: Damage recon to repair what I had injured.

Step two: Figure out what he wanted.

And step three? Well, that seemed obvious. Step three was to remove him from the apartment as _quickly_ as possible.

Yeah. Because that was going to be easy.

Drawing in a deep breath, I set my mind to my task, trying to come up with a mantra. Those seemed to work pretty well. Sadly, 'out' was the only word I could come up with. Stupid Gandhi and stupid, non-functional meditation.

I gathered my courage and found Trevor sitting on the landing, his back pressed against the railing, the skin beneath his left eye swelling and rimmed in lines of light red and purple.

"Ow … I really am sorry."

He glanced up, startled, and tried to smile. Instead, he flinched.

"Not a big deal. I've had worse."

"Uh huh," I hopped over his legs and motioned for him to follow. "I'm sure you have, tough guy like you."

He laughed, walking behind me towards the kitchen.

"See right through me, huh?"

"Something like that," I half-smiled, standing on the tips of my toes to reach the cold pack in the back of the freezer and ignoring the twist in the pit of my stomach at his laugh. The warm arm brushing by mine didn't help my nausea as he reached in to grab it for me. Then again, the solid chest and muscle-bound sex abs pressed against my back didn't help either.

The oxygen evaporated from my lungs, and I jerked away at his touch, rivulets of heat running across the skin on my back and dripping down my wrist. He pulled away, giving me the same odd glance from the night before, as he leaned against the island and pressed the ice pack to his eye.

"How about a peace treaty? You don't tell anyone that I got beat up by a girl, and I won't tell anyone that I'm now intimately acquainted with your underwear. Deal?" he smirked.

I felt the heat flood my chest and cheeks. I wanted to rip that smirk right off his face, but it looked so _good_ there. Still, I refused to look up.

"As long as you promise not to mention it to _me_, either."

"Alright, alright … duckling."

My entire body flushed crimson. His battle wounds were taken care of, so what was step two again? Out? No, why. Why was step two.

"What do you want?" The question spilled from my lips, complete and total word vomit. He looked amused and pulled a container of fire-engine red lipstick from his pocket. I quirked an eyebrow. "While I, uh, appreciate the gesture, I don't usually go for the stripper look." My mind floundered. I felt it coming … oh no … the rest of the vomit ... "At least during the day, you know, weeknights are more my –"

"It's Rose's," he said as he set the tube down on the counter and shrugged. "Well, technically, I think it's Alice's … but, anyway … she left it … in my green room, last night, and … I thought she might still be here …" he struggled, throwing me a pleading glance.

I had moved to lean over the sink and was staring out the window, focused on the raindrops that splattered against the thousands of insignificant, vibrant, insect-like blobs floating down the sidewalk. If I couldn't focus on that, I would focus on him. If I focused on him, I would come up with real vomit.

But could I look past the obvious lie?

Nope.

"Really?" The word gave off more sarcasm than I intended. "Except that they weren't meeting here. And," I glanced at the clock, "Alice and Rose aren't meeting downtown for more than two hours, so I'm _pretty_ sure you could have found your fiancée at home." My words were pointed; my stance even more so.

"She wasn't there," he ground out.

"So you thought she'd be here?"

"Considering this was her home a couple of weeks ago, yeah, I'd say I had a pretty good chance."

I considered this. "So, what, when five minutes of banging didn't get anyone's attention, you thought you'd keep going and hope the dead would open the door for you?"

"I saw a car in the garage, I assumed it was yours. Alice must have left it open."

"Oh." I traced a bead of water across the stainless steel. "So …"

"So, I thought I'd return it to you. I didn't realize a hibernating bear had inhabited your body."

"You went through all this, just to return some lipstick?" Water had lost its fascination. I turned to watch him.

"I –" he stumbled. "I – I guess I don't know."

His eyes were downcast; the cold pack was lying under his hands. His clothes hung against his body, damp. His shoulders slumped, and I could see a rough line of two or three day stubble running the length of his jaw. He leaned towards me, the island separating our bodies, but everything about him was magnetic. I crossed the short distance, placing my hands on the edge of the island.

His skin had dried, but his hair was still moist and mussed from the rain. Two faint scars ran through his left eyebrow; another, clear across his cheek; still another highlighted the bridge of his nose. He raised his head suddenly in the midst of my inspection.

His eyes were the same shape, crooked – one vaguely lower than the other. They were the same color – green, flecked by gold and fading to a light hazel near the pupil. His nose leaned a little to the right, and his mouth tilted a little to the left. Every feature, examined now in the closeness of the faded morning light, bore a resemblance that was unspeakable and beautiful in its imperfection. His lips parted.

"Bella," he breathed. Our hands were a foot apart, our bodies' farther across the large ceramic island, but he had reached me across the distance. I was paralyzed, ready to be poisoned and consumed alive by the fire burning low in those eyes. The tiles froze my forearms, icy cold when I felt so very warm.

His hand brushed my cheek, tucked slender pieces of hair away, and lingered against my chin. My heartbeat faltered. I ceased to breathe. So did he. There existed a time outside of that kitchen; the mere feet covered by his arm were nothing to cross. The soft pads of his fingertips against my skin … each place smoldered, a lovely heat, lingering and morphing into a cool burn.

"Edward," the whisper slipped through, unbidden. His forehead creased.

"Who … what are you?"

It was a slap in the face. The words, spoken so softly, stabbed me in the stomach, left me gasping for air, climbing and chasing a dream that was as broken as reality. The rain on the tin roof was hollow, echoing my stifled gasp of air. I snatched the lipstick from the countertop and stepped backwards.

"Leave," my jaw clenched. "Please."

My chest felt stripped and squeezed by the vice of failure and loss. I walked away, fully comprehending my actions and praying that he would just go so I didn't have time to ponder what I did. Instead, those heat-filled hands wrapped around my forearm and stung the skin.

"Bella, plea –"

"Goodbye, Trevor."

My eyes were cold; his were confused. I wrapped another layer of ice around my heart and pulled my arm from his grasp, walking across the hallway and disappearing into Alice's room. I shut and locked the door behind me, the metal clicking delicately in the knob.

I don't know how long it took him to leave. I didn't want to see a clock. I simply sat on my roommate's rumpled sheets, fraying the edge of a pillowcase and gazing out the window, unseeingly. I'm not sure where my mind went. I don't remember much of anything, only the vague sense this was where minds go, to a place of solitude and silence, to just rest and be, in the middle of some great stress. Mind nirvana.

It was the hard close of the door that brought me to reality. I listened again. Silence. The deep thrum of a motorcycle roared to life and quickly faded. I stared at the door.

I had called Trevor Edward. I was beginning to wonder if Trevor _was_ Edward. This was stupid. But then why the connection? Why the banter, the ease, the feeling of _knowing_ that only drifted in over years of companionship? I wondered if Edward had some long-lost twin he wouldn't have known to tell me about.

I was psychotic. I was mentally unstable. I was trying to bring my best friend back from the dead. Pretty soon unicorns, leprechauns, and dancing lollipops were going to be making appearances in my day to day life.

I needed a release. My eye caught on the lanyard hanging off of Alice's doorknob. A gym … where there were other people, and maybe even a pool. And, if I was _really_ lucky, it might be a true pool – Olympic sized, for swimmers. It was exactly what I needed at a time like this.

My body found a reason to function again. I stood from the bed, picked up the lanyard and walked to the phone. I called Alice, confirmed the existence of the otherwise assumed pool and my usage of her country club membership, got directions, sprinted to my room, slipped on a sapphire one-piece, and was in my car driving before ten minutes had passed.

Sadly, the country club existed only on the outskirts of Atlanta, and, sadly, I was not one of the lucky, freak humans for whom driving was a calming act. By the time I handed my keys to the valet, I was _desperate _to lose myself in the long strokes of exercise. I hadn't swum in weeks. The tension strung tightly through my shoulder blades.

The muggy steam and smell of chlorine drifted lazily in the locker room air. I was like a junkie searching for a high. One deep breath and my muscles unwound. My mind cleared, focused, anticipating the feel of the slick water embracing my limbs. I could taste sweet, chlorinated relief.

I stepped around the pool, claimed a free lane, and set my towel down by the starting block. Biting my lip, I decided to go in from the stairs and relish the moment. The water lapped against the sides of the pool, curling around my ankles in little waves.

I slipped in. It molded itself to my shape, coiled around me like a glove. It felt me and knew me for who I was; I was complete in its wholeness like I never was anywhere else. Not even photography gave me this kind of high. Here, I was in complete control. I chose what to feel, what to be. And today, I would be me.

My body slid through the water, propelled by my own force, controlled by the angle of my limbs. I slicked back the stray edge of my pony tail, and, aligning with the wall in my lane, lost myself in a slow breaststroke, feeling my calves and arms begin to burn slowly … like green, gold-specked eyes, smiling, sadly …

"_Isabella Marie Swan, I vow to stay with you for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me." _

I rose from the water, gasping, but my body continued the practiced motion, leaving my mind to its own devices.

"_Edward? I love you."  
_

"_I love you too, Izzy."_

_NO!_

The verbal scream was unexpected, rising from somewhere inside of me that I didn't know existed. The memory voluntarily faded. I focused, wiping my mind as clean as it would let me, concentrating on the smooth striations my body made in the water, the movement that flipped me easily into a perfect backstroke.

I would not let him penetrate my every thought. After five more laps, I turned again, launching into a fast front crawl, pressing every bit of awareness into the stroke, listening to my breath in the water, the exertion which leeched the poison of insanity from my flesh. It melted into liquid and drifted away.

After another fifteen minutes of the exhausting stroke, I slid again into an easy backstroke. My mind felt clear. I could think again. I drifted easily, mentally shuffling through my wardrobe and putting together clothing options for my first day of work, before moving to decide on dinner.

When my fingertips had begun to pucker twenty minutes later, I pulled myself from the pool near the starting block and began to dry my limbs. I looked up, fascinated by the grey, swirling clouds and the hard, tinkling sound of the water on the glass panels above me.

"You're a beautiful swimmer."

I turned sideways.

"I –" I stuttered, mouth agape. The serenity of my mind didn't allow me to yell. Yet. He smiled crookedly, draping a towel over his shoulder – his _bare_ shoulder – and looked at the ground.

"I swear, I'm not stalking you."

I blushed from head to toe.

"I – I didn't say you were."

"I know."

Silence surrounded us. The splashing of two or three other swimmers filled the air, along with the high pitched tings of rain on glass. Eventually, I sat down on the starting block, wrapping my towel around my shoulders and glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

He was lean, but also muscular, with limbs which obviously had some experience with exercise that wasn't weight lifting. They reminded me of the limbs of a dancer – long lines and artful strokes. His abdomen was smoother than I had previously thought; still, lean muscles formed a lightly indented six pack that was stunning.

Black gym shorts hung perfectly on his hips, a thin line of dark hair trailing downwards between the barest hints of perfect pelvic lines. But as much as his body made me slightly weak in the, well, everywhere, the slow burn that began in my stomach and dipped _much _lower wasn't what drew my curiosity.

Small, white lines that only just glinted in the incandescent lighting littered his body. I could see five or six of various sizes scattered up the length of his abdomen. More decorated his arms, the most noticeable cutting across the side of his shoulder.

"I could take a picture for you."

_Oh … shit._

A cocky grin picked up the right side of his mouth. He pulled the towel from around his shoulder and threw it over my head. "I've heard they last longer. Or some kind of bullshit like that."

I sat inside of my light blue cocoon, more than absolutely sure he could see the red glow of my skin from outside. Maybe this was just a dream, liked that cracked-out kids movie with the scarecrow and annoying pig-tailed girl. I stared at my feet underneath the towel. Well … it was worth a shot.

I snapped my heels together twice.

"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's –"

"Did you make it back to Kansas yet?"

His head slipped underneath the walls of my hiding place and he sat down beside me, his lips pressed together to keep him from laughing. I scowled.

"I didn't get to finish, you bastard. You interrupted. Now I have to channel my inner Dorothy all over again."

He laughed, pulling the towel from my head at the same moment I reached up to maintain its attachment to my scalp. Unfortunately for me, those lean muscles were much stronger than my futile resistance. I proceeded to face plant his lap.

My hands flew out in front, immediately vying for some kind of surface to push me out of the "danger zone." The left one seemed to connect to something solid, but as I reached out, the softer surface I was headed for suddenly disappeared. My flailing had coincided with his surprise as he leaped out from underneath my face, leaving my upper body in a free fall, directly into the side of the concrete block.

Pain radiated through my skull. I clenched my teeth. My left hand finally found purchase on the other side of my head and I used it to begin pushing my body upwards, but a sharp pain laced through my right eyebrow. I hissed. A hand appeared on my other side.

"Bella, I am _so_ sorry," he mumbled. I wanted to tell him it was fine, but the only words I could think consisted of lots of painful sounds and a long string of expletives. Hey … I was learning to control myself.

A warm palm pressed at my still dangling right hand, urging me upwards. I attempted to comply, taking more than enough comfort at the feel of his skin, which didn't seem to burn through me when my brain was occupied with letting me feel so many _other_ sensory nerves. I made it far enough to roll over, my feet and knees dangling off of the starting block while I stared at the glass ceiling. Just waiting for it all to fall in on me.

Instead, I felt a warm body appear next to my head, followed by wet liquid dripping across my temple. I glanced backwards as far as I could.

"You're bleeding," he explained, and a small stab of pain made me wince when he ran the wet towel across my eyebrow again – _his_ wet towel. The water dribbled down into my eye as he tended my wound, so I eventually closed my eyes and focused on my breathing until the pain faded to a dull throb.

A soft pressure swept across the injury. I looked up to find Treward – what the fuck kind of name was that? – pressing his thumb against the gash. My gaze flickered to the scar in his eyebrow.

"Looks like we'll have a matching set."

His motion stopped and I saw the skin above his eyebrow crinkle in confusion.

_So cute_.

Instead of commenting, I pointed at the place my eyes were fixed. The skin smoothed in understanding. A low chuckle reverberated through the block and into my body.

"Yeah, but you didn't give me mine."

Sudden curiosity struck me, and I pushed myself from laying to sitting in one motion, controlling my swaying head by firmly planting both hands beside me.

"So … who did?" He glanced down, but not so quickly that I didn't catch the first emotion that flashed plainly across his face – cold, all-consuming fear.

"Not so much a 'who,' really, but a 'what,'" he pursed his lips and brought his gaze back to mine. "Not a story for today, though." The smile leapt back onto his face so quickly that I was blindsided, stunned, and not prepared for his next move. "Let me buy you a drink, at a coffee place down the street – to apologize." His head tilted slightly to the left, like a puppy dog. "You do like coffee, don't you?"

I sat, mentally staggered at his blitzkrieg of schizophrenic emotions and nodded like a deaf mute. He slung his towel back over his shoulder, stood, and offered me his hand.

"Great," he smiled, the same crooked grin that lifted the right side of his perfectly imperfect mouth. I stood, grabbing the offered hand as I wavered, my brain still in a state of catatonic shock while he lead me back to the women's locker room.

"You're not going to leave on me, right?" he offered up when I leaned against the door. I shook my head lightly. I think his smile got wider. "Good. I'll meet you in the gym lobby in fifteen." He paced away, leaving me staring after, more confused than I had been in a very long while.

Treward was a mindfuck. And I had no fucking clue from what depths of my twisted mind that name had come.

Fruitlessly, I ran through the last two hours like a movie reel in my head, the droplets of the running shower mingling with the sounds of the rain and becoming a buzzing background noise to my confusion. I wasn't sure how to process any of this.

Why did we keep meeting? Why did everything about me around him seem so … natural? And why in hell did someone keep getting hurt every time we met?

I fingered the gash on my eyebrow, the pain bringing me closer to sanity from my mental fog. Only to realize that I had agreed to coffee. With my now-arch-nemesis' fiancé. How did I get myself into this?

I had no answer for my mental enigma. Instead, I decided it would probably be in my better interests to determine how I could _fix_ this situation instead of how I had gotten into it in the first place. Because that _obviously_ hadn't been my fault.

Well, fixing consisted of staying away. And obviously Treward wasn't going to give me that luxury anymore. For some reason we seemed inevitably fated to find each other in this giant metropolis of five hundred-thousand people. And something in his smile told me he didn't see staying away to be an option.

I glanced down at my phone. Damn. Slipping on my flip-flops, I snatched up my bag and raced out of the locker room, still not exactly sure why I was going and with no plan to make the going better.

He glanced up from his watch when I walked into the lobby, and the smile I received nearly stopped me in my tracks. It was almost as if he didn't expect me to come. Some unreasonable sensibility flared up in anger at his assumption. I raised an eyebrow.

"Don't trust me?"

He held out a hand.

"Now I do."

I glanced down at his hand and brushed past him, pulling my bag higher on my shoulder.

"How about I drive?"

"Would that make you more comfortable?"

"Only because it would give your fiancée less reason to claw my eyes out next time we unfortunately meet," I snickered, walking away. He caught up to my slightly harried pace with three long strides.

"I'm sorry Rose comes off so over-protective."

It took everything I had not to laugh.

"Over-protective?" I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Angry or not, I would have to measure my words carefully if I wanted to keep my home. We reached my car before I responded. "Don't you think that's a bit of an understatement?"

"Look, she just doesn't know you," he sighed, sliding his way into my car as I tossed my bag behind me and cranked up the ignition. "She's loyal and caring to a fault, but she's defensive because she doesn't know where you stand. She doesn't know you well enough to know if you're going to hurt her family or not."

My gaze flickered sideways again.

"But you do?"

Treward opened his mouth once, preparing to speak, but when nothing came out he seemed deflated. Silence filled the car, outside of Treward's curt directions, for the remainder of the five minute trip to Urban Grind, the local café.

We ordered our drinks in silence, everything in me protesting against him paying, even though I knew it was his way of saying he was sorry. Even if I wasn't even sure what it was for. Eventually, we settled down at a small table in the corner, my green tea latte and his double shot of espresso settled comfortably between us.

I tapped my nails against the side of the recycled cardboard container, my eyes drifting everywhere but his. He, however, continued to stare at me intently, as though he had no shame. The avoidance technique was going nowhere. Resisting the urge to huff in frustration, I finally looked him in the eye.

He had leaned back when I wasn't looking, and he studied me, casually, his soft, grey cotton undershirt pulling against his chest while the light, green open collared shirt was rolled up and pulled at his elbows.

"I could take a picture for you," I drawled, mimicry written in the lines of my face. He smiled, settling back in closer to the table.

"Sorry. You just …" he drifted off, one side of his mouth quirking up regretfully and then fading away. "Never mind. So, when you aren't showing up at the door in your undies, punching poor delivery boys, and getting knocked out at private swimming pools, what _do_ you do with your spare time?"

"I photograph," I replied, pondering slightly over the irony of that statement. "I just got a job at the Spin office here." I took a long sip of my latte and sat forward, my elbows resting on the table. I couldn't take the pleasantries. "I just what?" I held myself firmly in place as he imitated my stance, sitting forward and placing our faces a mere foot away.

"Bella, you don't _want _to know what goes on in my head. I promise."

"Try me."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because," he sighed through his nose, a clear sign of his frustration, "my life is much more complicated than you can even begin to understand."

"So you can't even tell me what you think of me?"

"For safety's sake, no."

"Sounds like Rosie's got more of her hooks in you than you'd like to admit."

A bright flash of anger stole across his face. His jaw clenched.

"You can't manipulate me, Bella."

"I don't want to manipulate you. I just want to know you."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"Because …"

"'Because' is not an answer."

"Because you can't."

"That's a childish answer."

"This is a childish argument."

"So?" I stopped as the word slipped from my lips. He raised an eyebrow. I sat back in frustration. "Fine. You win. What do you want, a prize?"

A gleam of humor, and something I didn't understand crept into his gaze as he sat back and laughed, "Maybe."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"What do you want?"

He shook his head. "You'll see."

I frowned, but it didn't reach my eyes. For the first time in a very long time, our bickering had left me feeling – happy. A warm kind of happy.

We sat in silence for a while, simply watching the people around us and each other, basking in the eerie companionship both of us seemed to recognize, but neither of us understood. Eventually, Treward glanced down at his watch and stood. I automatically copied his movements.

"Time to get back, I guess," he murmured. I simply nodded, unwilling to break the silence. We rode back to the country club, the silence holding strong. We parked a few rows down from his car. I shut off the engine. Both of us stayed in our seats.

I looked over to find him studying the floorboards. Sucking in a deep breath, I pulled out the courage to finally break into the peace of the last twenty minutes.

"Please," the word came out cracked, broken. I cleared my throat. He looked up, looked me in the eye. "Please tell me," I paused. Some kind of wicked serenity stole over me. "I just _what_ … Edward."

It slipped through unbidden. I had been thinking Trevor, my mind knew the sounds, prepared to form the word, but something changed. I waited for him to become confused, to start asking questions. Time moved in slow motion, my mind reeling from the mistake and cursing myself relentlessly. But he never flinched.

"You just fascinate me, Bella," he murmured, and without missing a beat, he closed the distance between us, pressing that perfectly imperfect mouth against mine. His lips were warm and tasted like espresso, a perfectly imperfect mold against my own crookedness. Heat spread in tendrils across my skin; I was paralyzed, mesmerized, and stricken, lost in an ocean of fears, doubts, and absolute serenity.

As quickly as it began, it was over. He slipped out the open door, and disappeared into the sea of cars, leaving nothing but the scent of cinnamon, espresso, and my crushed red lips behind him.


	7. Chapter Six: New Low

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "New Low" as performed by Middle Class Rut, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters, and would also like to say what an amazing song "New Low" most certainly is, so I will definitely pimp it out.

**A/N**: Hi all! I want to keep this as short as possible, but I've got a good amount of info to dump on you, so hold on cause here we go! First, because she could NEVER be last, I cannot say enough thank yous to my friend and the mistress of the grammar whip, Miss **clarabella75**. Seriously, she writes, and she writes amazingly, with such depth and emotional precision, I promise your heart will be angsty and happy all at once. **HERE:** http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6327011/1/Home ... **Go see for yourself**. ;)

Also, thank you SOOOO very much to each of you who read and reviewed each chapter. You know how amazing you are, but let me tell you again - **YOU ARE AWESOME!** You keep my heart bubbly and my fingers typing. And I can't forget those silent readers, of the favorites and story alerts. :) I hope you're enjoying as each chapter moves along, cause this stuff is for you guys too!

Okay, last but not least, I know I'm HUGE on visuals, and I like to know how things look, so I'm going to post a few links below this (just like the one above) so that hopefully, if doesn't screw up, you can see some of the items I'm pulling for this chapter. Also, I'll be posting these permanently on my profile page, hopefully by tomorrow morning, along with a few other visuals from earlier in the story and the link to my facebook page and the AWESOME FanFicAholics Anon page. Thank you my lovely readers, and happy reading!

http:/www(dot)natashamillani(dot)com(dot)au/Images/Products/Large/Angelic-Purple-Cocktail-Dress-3(dot)jpg - Bella's Cocktail Dress

http:/www(dot)models-sasha(dot)com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/cocktail-dress-for-chubby(dot)jpg - Alice's Cocktail Dress

(Psst ... just remove the (dot) and replace with actual dots. If that doesn't work, hop over to my profile for a better look!)

* * *

Chapter Six:  
New Low

How did I get so far from where I was?  
When did I decide to lose my way?  
Who have I become…

Well who am I, a cold shoulder left to cry  
You feel bad, well so do I  
Yeah, so do I

I cannot help feeling like I have so much at stake  
So I lock myself inside my head and I just run in place  
So many directions I don't know which way to go  
I'm so busy doing nothing I got nothing to show

"New Low" – Middle Class Rut

* * *

After that day, I didn't see Trevor, or Edward, or whoever he was, again.

July passed into August and hot, sticky summer days. August smoothed into September, and serene breezes promising cooler days began to drift through the hazy, heated air while the sun relinquished the Deep South from its oven-like grasp. I watched the leaves begin to crisp, some blossoming into bright yellows, reds, and oranges from the chill air that blew in with wistful caresses.

It was a time of idealistic dreams, an early fall to relieve the suffocating metropolis from fully wilting underneath the summer heat. Even the rays of sunlight shooting through the heavy oaks and perfumed magnolias were airy and warm perfection to the skin they danced along. But this heady infusion of nature's absolute warmth and soul-suffusing glow did nothing to reach through the bleak cocoon I had created for myself.

For days I could do nothing but think, confused and betrayed, wondering; but no matter how long I spent, digging through my head, rewinding conversations and replaying what I had done wrong, the answers never surfaced. Only one thought was poignantly clear – the bastard had kissed me.

I couldn't reprieve myself completely of blame; it had probably seemed as though I was all but begging for it, when my only concern had been an honest attempt at figuring out the man who sat across from me. But now … well, now he had kissed me, and this one action could very possibly have opened up an entirely new level of hell, for both of us.

I still had no idea what to do with it.

I remained, trapped in that moment, even as life moved on. Of course, I moved on with it, unable to stop the ever-constant forward motion pressing anxiously against my unwillingness. I woke, I dressed, I drove to work, I worked, I drove home. My days became cyclical, never meandering from the patterns I had set to them. Monday through Friday, from eight in the morning until five in the evening, I was theirs. I acted like one of them, I laughed like one of them, I talked like one of them, I breathed like one of them. They were living, they were loving, they were thriving – they were _alive_.

I was drowning.

Once, I saw myself in a mirror. My limp, faded hair framing chapped, chewed lips and bloodshot, dark-rimmed eyes, set in ashen skin. That was on week three. I covered every reflective surface I could find, but I couldn't avoid everything that reflected me.

There would always be Alice. She stepped into my life occasionally, if only to do nothing more than be sure I was eating. I couldn't stand to be around her for long. I couldn't stand the pity and pain that lit her normally joyous face. I saw myself in the glossy sheen of her eyes, catatonic. She saw, but she never questioned, not after week one, and for that I was grateful.

Emmett called. Besides Alice, he tried for longer than anyone else, actually. I was surprised at his tenacity. Day after day, for the first week. I talked, sometimes. I tried to be okay, for him if for nothing else, but the figurative "big brother" in him saw right through me, even from two thousand miles away.

Soon it became easier just not to talk, and then simply not answer. After week five, he stopped calling. I know he started calling Alice, which had to have been hard as hell, because she told me. He threatened to quit his job at first, to come out and annoy me until I spilled what was wrong.

But he wouldn't come, because I'd never tell. I couldn't tell, or I'd hurt more people than I knew what to do with. I'd always fallen for the self-sacrificial thing, so my daddy told me. I never realized when you truly did it right, it hurt like fucking hell.

As much as my days had fallen into a pattern, my nights had morphed into an exact opposite. Sometimes, I paced my room, rubbing at the tops of my arms even though the thermometer read eighty degrees. Sometimes, I lay underneath two and three blankets, shivering from a chill that didn't exist in the humid room. Sometimes, I lay on the floor staring at the ceiling, and other times I stood, wedged between the window and my bookshelf, staring down at the meandering passers-by whose harried lives I occasionally envied despite myself.

Only one constant remained – sleep escaped me.

Cat naps became my way of survival; an hour here, twenty minutes there, but always a sudden thought or haunting nightmare pulled me from my restless dozing.

My mind would never turn off. Every thought ticked by, nervous and never ending, no matter what consumed them. They weren't always about him. Sometimes they were about Emmett, or my mother, or my next assignment, or the look on Alice's face as I had slipped by her and disappeared into my room.

But sometimes they _were_ about him. Actually, some kind of thought surrounding him consumed me more than I cared to admit. 'Who is he?' and 'What is he?' were at first the most popular choices, but soon, these were too banal to be considered; they seemed obviously unanswerable for any rational state of mind. He obviously knew who he was; he had a family, a life, a past, and as complicated as it may have been for him, it still existed.

But then he had those eyes, which were taken so often by that look, and then framed by those off-center lips and crooked nose. It was a look I had seen so many times before; a look I hadn't seen in almost a decade. A look I had never been able to replicate anywhere else, no matter how hard I had tried.

And try I had. Man after man, I searched for the right 'one.' But then one turned into twenty-one, which moved into thirty-one, and before I could even begin to define what was occurring in my life, my well-known mode of operation had become the 'date n' dump.'

Now, I was alone. For the first time in six years, since the day of my seventeenth birthday, when Renee had emancipated me from the bonds of daughterhood and wished me a happy life, I was alone. I had never felt more solitarily defined. Nevertheless, as soon as I reached this conclusion my mind would snap back, unwilling to retrace the hurt, loss, and abandonment, and deal with what Emmett called my 'mommy issues.'

Instead, they would move back to him. I soon realized that I could never even say his name in my head. At this point, trying to figure out which of the two 'hims' I was talking about simply left me lost. I was angry at both, and angry was an understatement that made Rosalie's certain wrath at the knowledge of our transgression look like the meanderings of a playful kitten. But the most terrifying part was what followed after I allowed myself to admit I couldn't not see them as one.

That single, solitary day, compounded by a lifetime of bad judgment calls and a haunting, jadedly allowed kiss, had unlocked a door to an ocean I had spent a lifetime barring away. Now I stood, on the edge of that ocean, timidly dipping my toes into the surf and flinching backwards at the sting of the cold, briny water. The water brought back the nightmares. It brought back the images of happier days where I was certain of who I was, of what I was to become.

Before Death and Fate turned my dazzling dreams into the stuff of nightmares, and these nightmares turned themselves into thoughts and plagued my mind.

I would have done _anything_ if I could have simply ceased to _think_.

But I continued, because I couldn't do anything else. I was locked away inside of myself, because I had nowhere else to go. I couldn't confront him; I never was very big on 'leaping into action.' So I had to confront myself. I always was stubborn.

This restless pattern became my black hole, my emptiness to climb into and ruminate.

After week five, some of my errant thoughts began to wonder if I needed an out. I wasn't sure if this was my survival instinct, but it only seemed to sink me lower under the blankets of solitude.

It was during week six that a sound at my door very nearly left me with a heart attack, lying prostrate on the floor. My weekends had been habitually uninterrupted, until now, so the unexpected sound brought my mind to a heightened awareness, even if my body didn't move. I heard the door open before I managed a reply and lifted my eyes to find Alice's frame halfway through the door. She raised her eyebrows at me and I vaguely nodded.

It was almost comical watching her step into my immaculate room. It looked as though it had stepped directly from an issue of Better Homes & Gardens – outside of me and the bed, of course. She glanced around, surprised, and her nose wrinkled slightly. I sniffed, but when I didn't smell anything, I shrugged it out of my mind. My bed frame tilted and squeaked in protest at my roommate's added weight. Her hand attempted to run through the knotted mess that was my hair, but her fingers stuck. She sighed through her nose.

"Bella …"

I made no reply, so Alice pulled her entire length onto the bed, tugged me away from the death-like talons that were gripping onto my pillow, and plopped my head into her lap. I glared up at her from the crevice between her dainty knees. At least she was wearing jeans.

She rolled her eyes and began to untangle my hair with her fingers, the long limbs working dexterously, despite their daunting task and inevitable failure. Regardless, the repetitive motion was calming to my sleep-deprived mind, and so I allowed her to continue, eyelids sagging in contentment. She managed to unwind a small section and followed this up by braiding the strands with quick motions. I remained in my cathartic state.

"Bella," her voice surprised me and I jumped, but Alice continued, untouched. "I know I have no idea what is going on in that pretty, brittle little head of yours, and I don't need you to come out and tell me, but either way, I _do_ need you to know that this is your intervention, and you are either going to talk, or you are going to get your butt off of this bed and use a defibrillator on your social life, got it?"

Her spiel was obviously well practiced; Alice let out a deep breath after the words had flowed much too smoothly off of her tongue. I refused to roll over or acknowledge her. Yes, I pouted. Her small hands tugged a braid out of a section of my hair and shoved me off of her legs. I bounced on the mattress.

"Bella, I'm not kidding." She brought herself to sit cross-legged in the middle of my bed. I rolled over to see the fierceness in her eyes. Great. Momma Alice was protecting her young, and this time, she had decided I was a danger to myself.

Maybe she was right.

I huffed a sigh of my own and propped my chin on my forearms.

"Is neither an option?" I croaked out. Alice's eyebrows lifted. My voice surprised me. Did I always sound this bad after every weekend's vow of silence?

"Don't make me use my powers of eviction on you, missy," she threatened, wagging her finger in my face. I wanted to stick my tongue out, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. Her face fell. "Bella, I'm really worried about you …" she trailed off. My eyes followed hers as they drifted around the spotless room. "This isn't you, Bells … and," she swallowed hard. It was then I noticed she wouldn't look at me. I reached out for her arm.

"What?" My stomach twisted a bit at the look in her eyes.

"Your boss called today. He said he wasn't sure things were 'clicking' like they had at your interview." She sniffled a bit. "Bells, he said that I should let you know that if things didn't seem to be working out in a few weeks, they had plenty of other applicants to fill the position."

Her words poured cement into my stomach. I sat up straight.

"I can't lose this, Alice … it's – it's all I have." I immediately realized my mistake and reached for her hand. "I mean, besides you and Emmett, but still …" My teeth reached for my bottom lip, anxiously gnawing on one side. I could do this. I _had_ to do this. I couldn't let the one thing I had ever truly been proud of slip through my grasp so easily. Obviously I hadn't understood how bad my performance had been at work. I vaguely realized I'd yet to take a single picture since arriving in Atlanta.

I was letting everything slide through the sands of the hourglass, all because I couldn't face myself or my past. I had been able to lock it up once; the pain had been so fresh when denial came, curling into the sealed caverns of my mind and slowly slipping the locks into place. This time, the door had been thrown wide open, and all that lay below me was a vast, encompassing sea of deep blue torture.

I was standing at the ledge alone, teetering, unwilling to take the plunge and yet unable to turn away. The door had closed and locked itself firmly behind me, leaving me with no way out. I was in limbo, and I was swiftly crashing. Irrationally, my heart began to pound.

"Bells," Alice's small hands entangled with mine. "I know you can't do this by yourself." She was almost clairvoyant in the moment, a light smile for me meshed with the assurance in her eyes. It was then I realized despite the instant rejection that flared up within me – I had never truly been alone.

"But …" I stumbled over my words, "you don't even know what I'm doing."

"I don't have to."

This small girl, whose eyes were lit by her warm soul that, for some fucked up reason, completely understood mine, had become my greatest ally. This simply southern lady was so much more, and she was beautiful. Why had I never understood that?

Suddenly, my ledge didn't feel so lonely. I squeezed Alice's hand and placed my head back into her lap.

"Thank you."

She never said a word. Instead, with more perceptiveness than I will ever understand, she moved back to ambling her fingers through my hair. We sat in companionable silence, and, for the first time in weeks, my room felt warm.

"So," she ended the moment, pushing lightly against my back, "in order to fulfill the second part of your deal _and_ keep your lodging, I might add, you're coming to a party with me tonight."

My head immediately shot off of her lap. I can only imagine I must have looked like a doe with a semi bearing down on her – I knew my death was imminent.

"Um, don't you think this is a little fast, you know, to be shoving me out into society and all?" I wanted to retreat back underneath the covers and die in my pillow. The little pixie was unfazed by my reaction.

"Nope. And you're going. It's not formal or anything, so don't freak out." Her look softened. "And I promise, if you're still feeling down and out after at least forty-five minutes, we'll take off, okay?"

I wilted in self-defense. The obligation to maintain social graces was a war I would never win. At least the promise of leaving early was a small victory in the battle for my sanity.

"Fine," I grumbled, stretching my arms above my head. Alice's nose wrinkled again.

"Bells," she paused and then pointed at me, "when was the last time you bathed?"

I halted, trying to remember. It had been so long since anyone had cared. My cheeks warmed when I realized my answer.

"Thursday." It was Sunday. If I had thought Alice's face couldn't look more appalled, I was sorely wrong. She bounded backwards off of the bed, her entire face wrinkling in revulsion.

"Bells! That is just gross!" She sounded like a mother scolding a petulant child. I grinned, but I couldn't laugh. "Can you even smell yourself?" she protested, stepping back a few more feet towards the door. Leaning over to sniff, I mentally cringed. I couldn't. Alice was mortified. "Oh my God, you can't … Bella, you're _immune_ to it." She pushed my bedroom door wide open. "That's just sad, sweetie."

I pouted. Alice pointed backwards through my door and towards the upstairs bathroom.

"Why don't you take yourself a nice long shower, relax, enjoy, and I'll take care of," she waved her hand around my bedroom and ended up pointing at me, "everything else. Okay? Good."

Without waiting for a reply, she pulled me off of the bed, pushed me into the bathroom, and proceeded to perform practically every other pre-bath ritual, outside of undressing me. Then I was alone, watching tendrils of steam crawl down the walls as I stared at myself in the mirror for the first time in weeks.

I looked … emaciated.

With the realization I wasn't alone came the unnerving spectacle of being able to see myself through someone else's eyes – and what I saw wasn't pretty.

My hair was greasy and limp, hanging lifelessly against my shoulders and framing a gaunt face. My skin seemed stretched over my bones, lily white, with eyes as luminescent as they were sunken in, a dirty brown rimmed in dark, ghosting shadows. My lips were chewed into a painful red. I pulled the ragged t-shirt from my shoulders, my normal fare for these long, fixed weekends, and winced visibly. The flesh along my ribs looked even more stretched than my face, and just as palely ashen, except for the two or three deep blue bruises that blossomed across my ribs and down my side, the rings fading out into a sickly green and yellow specked mess.

No wonder Alice had been so worried. Outside of the bloated stomach, starving children on the "Feed the World" commercials looked healthier than I did. I made a mental note to get Alice something extra special with my first bit of spending money.

Her ability to provide me with something to live for had been an eye opening experience, but I can't say I didn't wonder – why wasn't _I_ enough?

"Bells, you had better _actually_ be bathing!" Alice's voice broke into my reverie from the other side of the bathroom door. Her persistence and ability to know me inside and out was astounding. A rueful smile made its way to my lips, but I didn't stay to see how haunted it would make me look. Instead, I climbed into the claw foot tub and stepped under the spray.

The water burned. My pale flesh morphed into a rosy pink at the heated rivulets running down my skin and pooling around the drain. I performed the usual rituals, lathering my long, thin hair into a turban on top of my head and then sliding the cushioned razor up my legs. When I had to shave my legs twice, I realized not only had my razor gone bad, but it had honest to God been six weeks since I had shaved. Gross.

Conditioner slipped through my fingers, unweaving the knots that even Alice's nimble hands couldn't untangle, and I watched as dead strands of hair slipped down my legs and around the drain. How long had it been since I'd washed my hair? I couldn't remember.

I truly was an unsightly mess.

I pooled the face wash in my hands, letting the granules scrub at my skin, the senseless wish of peeling this depression off bit by flaky bit materializing somewhere in the back of my mind. Of course, the added bonus of bringing some color back to my cheeks and shedding the cracking layers off of my sadly abused lips didn't hinder my long, harsh strokes either.

I was done. I felt clean, and even if I wasn't mentally as pieced together as I had been when I started this journey, at least it was something.

As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, I felt my heart clench a bit. The air smelled of lavender and cardamom. My bed was made, with fresh sheets, I assumed, since I hadn't bothered to change them, and a deep purple, silk cocktail dress lay across the comforter. A small mirror had been propped on my desk, and all of Alice's favorite make-up kits and hair contraptions were set up along the edges. I was in for it tonight.

"Bella!" My name was a squeak to my left. "You're dripping on the wood!" In the space of a moment, my sodden mane was wrapped unevenly in a dry towel she had grabbed out of the hall closet. She slipped by me into the room.

"I'm sorry, I just –" the quick look in her eyes silenced me. She didn't want any thank you, outside of allowing her to primp me for the night. I restrained my eye roll; I would have let her _without_ the good deeds and bribery, but Alice wouldn't be Alice without it. Instead, I clutched the towel to my chest and stepped over to the bed, fingering the dress with my other hand. "Alice, this is beautiful."

"You like it?" She smiled, rubbing gloss over her pale pink lips. She smoothed down the fluff of her knee-length, black and white cocktail dress and tuned to me. "Mother bought it for me last Christmas. God knows the woman doesn't pay any attention to sizes; the damn thing never has fit me, but I've always loved the cut. I figured if it worked well on you, you could have it."

"Really?" I fingered the silk and chiffon. Alice chuckled.

"Yes, really, you goof. Now, go try it on while I finish up my makeup, and then we'll get to work on you."

It was Fate. The soft folds fit my barely-there curves like a glove, draping easily to my knees. One shoulder was free, giving the dress a Grecian look I loved, and a wide satin belt provided the appearance of slim, sloping hips. When I stepped back into the room, Alice gave a tiny squeal.

"Bella, it's perfect!" Her eyes were bright. I could only nod. "Now," she pulled back my low-backed desk chair, "let's get started, shall we?"

Over the next forty five minutes, Alice managed to not only revive my lifeless hair, but tame it into soft waves which fell naturally around my shoulders, so relaxed even I was comfortable. My makeup was applied with a light hand; no foundation to dry out my already abused skin, light brown eyeliner paired with soft layers of deep purple shadow to bring out the chocolate brown of my eyes, and a small amount of blush to make me look less like the walking dead.

I couldn't believe the change from earlier this afternoon. While still a little thin, I looked like Bella again. Hell, I looked better than Bella.

Alice chattered incessantly. From the moment I sat down to let her play to the moment I was slipping on a pair of low, black pumps and rushing out the door, I never had a chance to think, much less ruminate on anything. As soon as I was settled and we were on our way, I realized how good it felt. To have Alice talk off my ear, well, that was questionable, but something had lifted; it was a weight off of my shoulders that made me feel as light as the folds of my very perfect dress.

Of course, now that we were on our way, my mind began to wonder again, and I felt a small snag of discomfort as I ran into something unusual. Alice had never mentioned _where_ we were going tonight. Usually, she was more than thrilled to chatter excitedly for hours on end about the gatherings she attended of the rich and famous Who's Who of Atlanta socialites. The names of the hosts of this particular party had not been forthcoming.

"Alice?" I turned in her direction, interrupting her as she trailed off to take a breath.

"Mmhmm?"

I tasted the words on my tongue, trying to phrase them delicately in the new light of my recent discoveries.

"Did you ever mention _where_ we were going tonight?"

She smiled confusedly. "A party, Bella, remember?"

"No, I remember that part, but …" I trailed off, turning further in my seat to face her. "Did you ever mention _whose _party we were going to?" I watched her complexion fade a bit at my question.

"No." Her hands gripped harder on the steering wheel. The small snag in my stomach turned into a knot of fear.

"Alice … whose party are we going to?"

* * *

Oooh ... yeah, I know it's a cliffhanger, sorry! *Hides in corner* Please don't throw anything _too_ hard!

Will you forgive me if I promise you a present? Yeah? Well, guess what ... I'm gonna do just that!

Because Treward just won't shut up and really wants his version of the story known too, I'll be starting **Mini Moments with Treward** as a gift to those who review! Sorry guys, not trying to bribe you into reviewing, but that's just the only way I know of to get in touch with those I know are reading. Don't worry! If you're not a reviewer, I'll eventually be posting these in a separate story, an addendum, if you will, but for right now, they are a treat for reviewers only!

So, let me know your thoughts (hate Bella, love Bella, want to give Bella a hard drink and throttle her ;P) and Treward will let you into his head at the end of last chapter, for his **unjust rejection and his stolen kiss**! Much love!


	8. Chapter Seven: Easy Complications

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Breathe" as performed by Taylor Swift and Colbie Callait, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **Keeping this as short as possible, endless thank yous and rounds of applause to **clarabella75**, who has now been named Super Extreme Beta Extraordinaire, and is quickly filling up her beta-ing slots! That's how you know she's awesome, and should most definitely check out her work! As to all of my AWESOME reviewers, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, I can't name any as my favorite because all of my reviews are so wonderful! To all of my other lovely invisible readers, I truly hope you are enjoying the journey. This chapter should be somewhat less angsty, I promise.

Also, as soon as I get the chance to find some knowledgeable internet person to show me how to post links to my profile (any volunteers?), I'll get ALL of the links up for this story! Yes, in this area, I AM technologically challenged ... *sheepish grin*

Happy Reading and thank you all for being the awesomeness you are!

* * *

Chapter Seven:  
Easy Complications

"Never wanted this, never want to see you hurt  
Every little bump in the road I tried to swerve  
People are people and sometimes it doesn't work out  
Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out

And we know it's never simple, never easy  
Never a clean break, no one here to save me  
You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

And I can't breathe  
Without you, but I have to"

"Breathe" – Taylor Swift feat. Colbie Callait

* * *

"_No, I remember that part, but …" I trailed off, turning further in my seat to face her. "Did you ever mention whose party we were going to?" I watched her complexion fade a bit at my question. _

"_No." Her hands gripped harder on the steering wheel. The small snag in my stomach turned into a knot of fear._

"_Alice … whose party are we going to?"_

0o0o0o0o0_  
_

"Um," she faltered, glancing sideways, studying me. My breathing turned shaky. The knot in my stomach started doing somersaults. If she didn't answer me soon …

"_Alice_," I almost growled through clenched teeth. Well, that came out much more pointedly than I had intended. She remained silent. I was ready to scream when she finally released a breath of air, and a rush of words came flowing out with it.

"We're going to Rose and Trevor's engagement party; you said you'd give them another shot and that you would make up for the googly eyes you were making at Trevor at the club, and I swear Bella, please don't hurt me, but we got the invitation three weeks ago, and I RSVP'd for you, assuming you'd be out of your funk by then. You have to go, 'cause it's a catered meal, and Rose would be _so_ offended if you didn't come and at least wish them a happy life."

Somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I noted Alice's stamina, which could have held its own in a no-breathing contest. However, the front of my mind was otherwise occupied. In fact, at the current moment, it was trying to regulate my breathing as I hyperventilated.

"Alice," I snatched at her wrist, one hand flying to my chest. A short, hysterical giggle slipped out. "You're joking, right?" Another laugh, slightly more frantic, bubbled into my chest. "C'mon Alice, that is a _seriously_ mean joke to play." Spurts of laughter punctuated my words. She was kidding. Mean whore, she was just trying to get me back for leaving her hanging for so many weeks. "I mean, I know I deserve it, I've been a bitchy mess, blah blah blah, whatever, but that was just _cruel_, and excellently played, to say the least." The hand on my heart slipped from my chest to swipe at Alice's arm. The laughter was coming harder now; I couldn't stop my hysterics.

Until I realized that Alice wasn't laughing. My frenzied laughter turned into panic-stricken gasps.

"Oh my God, Alice, please tell me you're really joking, _please_." I couldn't stop pleading. My broken mental state couldn't handle this. I couldn't – I was swimming again, I was drowning, I was …

"No, I'm not, I'm so sorry Bells, but please don't be mad at me. You can do this; we can do this, together, I promise," she pled with me, tentatively releasing the steering wheel with one hand as I sat back against the seat, striving desperately to slow my harried gulps of air. Her hand found mine and she squeezed gently.

Gradually, I calmed, but my grip on her hand didn't loosen. Alice's Porsche glided into the valet line outside of the St. Regis Hotel. I swallowed back the rising bile. The valet line crept along, allowing my fear plenty of time to percolate. Alice had been silent after my breakdown and recovery, so I was surprised out of a mental trance when she spoke again.

"Bells," she started tentatively, pursing her lips, "the past couple of weeks … all of your … well, you know." I didn't reply. She didn't wait. "Did it have anything to do with _them_?" She motioned to the many storied hotel looming above us.

"Alice," her name came out as a croak, and I shook my head. She understood.

"Okay," she lingered on the word, and I could see from a precursory glance her mind was plotting full speed. She knew my answer wasn't a 'no' – it was an 'I can't/don't want to talk about this at the moment.' Now something was festering in her brain. Oh God. I could very well be doomed.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, physically hopping in her seat. "Okay, the purpose of tonight is to make amends with Rose, right?" Her eyes jumped between me and the road. I nodded. "Look, you don't have to tell me what's going on," she eyed me, "_yet_, but I figure your problem has something to do with Rose or Trevor." I began to protest, but she shushed me quickly.

"Just _listen_ Bella," she huffed, frustrated. I sat back, resigned. "During the night, if you start to drift off, then we'll have a safe word, something to pull you back to reality so we don't have another 'I'm Bella, and I want you to hate me because your fiancé is hot' moment, okay?"

I scowled, ready to bite Alice's head off when a rational idea struck me – having a safe word might keep me from having to approach Trevor, just because I had drifted off staring at him and thinking about the … well, the _incident_. I decided to pay attention, because these kinds of thoughts didn't come along too often in my world. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Don't patronize me. Or mock me. And fine, we can try it. What kind of word do you want to use, 'stop'?" Okay, so my frustration made my words come out much more sarcastic than I intended. I would have to watch my tongue tonight. Alice didn't seem to notice.

"No, it has to be something really inconspicuous," she quieted, thinking, "… like, glass. Or chandelier."

I couldn't help my smirk.

"How about asparagus," I muttered.

"That's perfect!"

I jumped as the pixie next to me began to bounce in her seat. Oh God … I was so fucked.

"Alice, I was _kidding_," I stressed. We were two cars away from the valet. The knot in my stomach tightened again.

"No, really Bella, it's perfect! It wouldn't mean anything to anyone else, and I happen to know asparagus is on Rose's catering menu tonight!"

"Great," I tried not to roll my eyes. I hated asparagus.

From out of nowhere, another rational through struck me – if Alice got a safe word for keeping me from staring at Treward, I should get a safe word if I needed to get the fuck out. Hey, two spurts of shrewdness in a row – I was on a roll.

"Hey, Alice? Mine's artichoke."

"Huh?" She glanced backwards as she handed the key to the valet. I looked at her over the top of the car.

"If you get one, so do I, and, after the first forty-five minutes, if we need to split, that's my word. Artichoke."

Alice snickered, "Whatever you say Bells."

I smiled, almost convinced I would survive the night, and turned to enter into what looked to be the most opulent building I had ever seen. Pure white marble lined the walkway between vast rows of towering, square columns. Two doors, at least twice my size, lined the entryway in front of us, and two porters pulled the heavy glass panels open, revealing an expansive lobby.

Two curving staircases, railed in chestnut brown oak, slid fluidly along the walls to an open loft. A colossal chandelier, inlaid with what looked to be diamonds and dripping with tiny, sharp-edged pieces of glass, hung over a chestnut table filled with bouquets of white and violet blossoms. The floor was inlaid with panels of the same chestnut brown oak, suffusing the entrance with a warm, classy, and inviting atmosphere that permeated the entire building.

The open loft, however, was railed with glass and wrought iron, and I could see other couples in cocktail attire meandering up the staircase and down a hallway, which almost certainly led into the party. My knees locked up in front of the staircase. Alice snatched at my hand from her place on the first stair.

"You can do this," she whispered. I cringed.

_Except you don't know the seven levels of hell I'm going through_.

Instead of voicing my concerns, however, I shook my head lightly and pulled one foot onto the staircase. I followed the first step with another. Alice smiled down at me, interweaving her fingers with mine. Step by step, the constant motions lead me upwards until I was on the second floor landing, staring down a hallway into a brightly lit room which seemed farther away than the moon.

This time, every muscle in my body tensed into immobility. Alice sighed through her nose.

"Bella, if this is how you're going to be for the rest of the night, I might be forced to leave you here on a couch and tell Rosalie I couldn't get you inside."

I was on the verge of agreeing with this plan until I realized if she left, I would be alone. I panicked, mentally bitching at myself to move, when a dark, debonair shadow swept up behind us.

"Good evening, ladies. Might either one of y'all be short an escort this evening?" His warm southern drawl interrupted my mental agony. Alice nearly became a pretty puddle in her priceless Carmen Marc Valvo. She gave a small squeal and slipped both arms tightly around his waist, her head barely reaching his breastbone, even in her five-inch, rhinestone-studded stilettos. He smiled tenderly, wrapping his arms around her tiny body and nearly engulfing her.

After a few moments, the hug was becoming something more – and I was becoming uncomfortable. Yeah, it was sweet and all, but one could only be expected to endure so much before demanding a soft porno in return. I cleared my throat awkwardly. Alice jumped out of her skin, and out of Jasper's arms.

"I'm glad you're here," she mumbled, stepping closer to me and glancing at the floor. Her hand brushed mine in apology. Honestly, I was glad for her, I just didn't need to see the high-school style make-out session that surely would have ensued. Sadly, an awkward silence I knew I would have to break followed my interruption. I looked my favorite bartender in the eye.

"It's nice to see you again," I offered, thrusting my hand in between us. Okay, so I wasn't the most socially graceful, but I had to do something. And no, I had no idea where all this new found bravery was coming from.

I expected Jasper to shake my proffered hand; instead, he pulled a move directly from _Gone With the Wind_ and leaned over the limb, sweeping a soft kiss across my knuckles. Understandably, I was a little shaken at the unexpected gesture, but what surprised me most was a soft sense of calm that filtered through me.

"The pleasure is all mine, ma'am." His smile was disarming, but his eyes flipped immediately to Alice. After confirming her lack of jealousy, I assumed, he turned back to me and stepped closer, brushing the hair off of my shoulder. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better. Alice said you'd caught a pretty nasty case of the flu. Kept you away from our poker games for a full month." He winked. I nearly performed an epic double take. Poker games? I glanced at Alice out of the corner of my eye, who looked slightly panicked. Ah.

"Yeah, yes, of course, I really am sorry I missed them," I recovered. A blind gamble was next, but I prayed to God it would pay off. "They're every week, right?"

"Yes ma'am," he smiled and stepped over to Alice, taking her hand in a gesture that seemed almost second nature. Alice was blessing me with her eyes. "You'll be sure to join us next time, right?"

I laughed flightily. "I don't know … I mean, I really do appreciate the offer, but work has me absolutely _swamped_ right now," I lied. I don't know why the fib slipped so easily off of my tongue, but I did know that you needed more than two people to play poker, and this made Treward and Rosalie's appearance nearly inevitable.

"Too bad," he grinned, and I could swear he winked at me again before moving to hook Alice's elbow with his. "Shall we join the party?" Alice offered me her other arm, and we moved forward across the endless wooden flooring.

I heard my roommate begin to chatter, asking her escort something about his work schedule next week, but I was distracted, attempting to convince myself that immediately searching for him in the crowd would be a _bad_ idea.

However, the bad idea became a reality as soon as we walked into the wide ballroom-style restaurant. My precursory study of my surroundings became an excuse for my not-so-hidden search of the crowded room. There had to have been _at least_ two hundred people there, if not more. I was simultaneously relieved and annoyed. The large crowd made my encounter with Treward much less plausible. Rats.

The room itself, however, was impeccable, draped tastefully in white and violet satin, from sheer to solid variations of the fabric hanging in different folds across the windows and strung through chestnut oak planks running along the ceiling. Small lights ran in strings throughout the material, in a way that would seem tacky but looked instead like hundreds of twinkling stars caught in the capes of the gods.

Hundreds of plush, lounge chairs sat around glass, wood, and wrought iron tables, which were adorned with gorgeous flower arrangements, mimicking the arrangement in the hotel lobby. The dining tables were situated along the outside walls, huge glass windows that stretched the breadth of one side of the long room. On the other side, a fireplace burned brightly, with comfortable couches and more lounge chairs in a rectangular pattern around it, creating a cozy cove of seeming privacy. Further towards the middle, behind a large gathering of human bodies, I assumed lay the bar, and the other side looked to be an exact replica of the fireplace and seating arrangement from this side.

And interspersed everywhere was a limitless crowd which continued to grow by the minute.

I felt small, and more than a bit lost, as Jasper led Alice and me to a vacant corner near the closest fireplace. I plopped down as gracefully as my weak knees would allow, trying to bury myself in the corner of the couch. Alice sat next to me, placing one hand on my knee. I saw the subtle eyebrow Jasper raised at her. She shook her head lightly. Great, I had become object of pity from a love-sick couple.

"Ladies, how would you feel about a drink? Open bar," he dangled the offer in front of my face. I would officially love this man forever.

"Martini, please, extra dry –"

"Shaken, not stirred, with three olives?"

I smiled. God, who was this guy? "Make it a double."

He grinned back and turned to Alice.

"Peach Bellini, please." She practically glowed at him, unconsciously fluttering her lashes. He leaned over to plant a firm kiss on her lips and moved off to retrieve our drinks. I lifted an eyebrow, temporarily distracted.

"Where did _that_ come from?"

Alice glanced down sheepishly and began tracing patterns in the fabric. Wait – I had just used Alice and sheepish in the same thought.

"We went on our first date … three weeks ago," she murmured and looked up at me before I could finish my train of thought. "I'm sorry, Bells, you were just so … _occupied_. I tried to tell you, but," she drifted off and shrugged.

All of a sudden, the reality of exactly how horrible a friend I had been hit me in the face like an oncoming train. I think, for once, I had honestly fulfilled my so-called role of absolute bitch.

"Alice, I am _so _sorry!" This time I grabbed at her hand, clutching it tightly. "I can't believe I've been such a horrible bitch! So, you and Jasper?" The question was an invitation for gossip, one that I'm sure she had been waiting _weeks_ for, and her entire face lit up instantaneously. I had been forgiven long ago.

"Yes, and Bells, he's _amazing_. I don't know, I just … no one has ever really _seen_ me, you know?" I nodded. "I guess we have known each other almost all of our lives, which helps, but, I think it runs deeper than that." She smiled, almost deliriously. "It's like, he's what I've been waiting for. I just never realized it until I moved back home. Even all the little _annoying_ things, like picking at his teeth after dinner and chewing the ice from his drink," she gave a dainty shudder, "don't bother me nearly as much when I'm with him."

"Wow, Alice," I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes, "chewing ice, that is just a _horrible_ trait, almost unforgivable." I was about to stick out my tongue when she hit me lightly.

"I happen to know for a fact you've dumped people for less cause, miss picky."

Shrugging my shoulders, I caught sight of Jasper's tall form in my peripherals.

"Incoming."

"Thanks," Alice squeezed my hand lightly before letting go, her eyes bright with pleasure as she accepted her drink. "And thank you, Jazz."

"My pleasure, ladies."

The bartender in him obviously knew how to handle a drink, as he balanced my martini, Alice's Bellini, and his own beer perfectly in his hands. He had just finished passing out the respective glasses when Alice bounced lightly beside me.

"Esme! Marilyn! You found us!"

I looked up to see two women, who looked to be the polar opposites of each other, parting the crowd and making their way towards us, two men trailing behind them.

One was obviously the mother of the fantastic beauty produced in both Jasper and Rosalie. Her long, thick blonde hair hung down her shoulders, a swarthy crown for her long, rigid nose, sharp eyes, and high cheekbones. She looked like an older version of her daughter, with a possible face lift. The rigid lines were too masculine for my tastes, however, and she almost put the fear of God into me.

The other woman, who was currently embracing a nearly vibrating Alice, was all soft curves and warm curls. Her long, auburn brown hair hung just past her shoulders in relaxed waves, and her face was heart-shaped and smooth, framing large, round eyes, hazel and kind. Her body was gently rounded but still stylish under her dress.

Alice tuned and hugged a man, a tall, handsome blonde who slipped one arm around the brunette's waist. She then shook hands with a shorter man, who was slightly plumper, with jet-black hair and Jasper's eyes. Finally, all four turned to me.

"Esme, Carlisle, Mr. and Mrs. Hale, may I introduce Bella Swan, formerly of Forks, Washington, and my new roommate." Jasper pulled me smoothly from my hiding place in the corner of the couch and Alice pulled me forward by wrapping her arm around my waist. I had been tag teamed.

"It's nice to meet you," I tried to force as much confidence into my voice as I could, but the words still wavered. Carlisle was the first to reach out and grasp my hand warmly. He smiled and nodded.

"It's a pleasure, Bella."

Esme was next in line; her warm arms enveloped me quickly. I understood why Alice seemed so pleased at Esme's arrival.

"I'm so glad Alice found someone else trustworthy," she whispered into my ear.

I moved on down the line, receiving a luke-warm greeting from Mrs. Hale, who had probably already gotten an earful from her lovely daughter. Mr. Hale shook my hand, cordially, but also distantly. From his smile, I could see that Jasper had inherited that as well.

"Lovely party, Alice dear," he commented, turning back to the small girl whose hand had been claimed by her date. "But we shouldn't be surprised. Between you and Rose, you've always had fantastic taste."

Alice giggled demurely, but I saw the glance pass between the mister and missus. Her glare was venomous. I noticed another detail had escaped my notice.

"Alice, you put this together?" I asked. She nodded shyly. "This is gorgeous!"

"Thanks Bells," she looked around, studying some detail I knew had completely escaped my notice. "We worked hard, but I still feel it could have been better."

"Oh, pshaw," Esme spoke from my other side. "Alice, it's perfect. And I'm sure Rose would tell you the same."

"Thanks Esme." Alice looked over at me. "Oh, I forgot, I didn't introduce them to you, Bells. This," she waved a hand towards the striking blonde and shorter man, "is Marilyn and Randall Hale, the rest of the lovely bride-to-be's happy family, and this," she waved the same hand towards the other couple, "is Esme and Carlisle Cullen, Trevor's parents."

My heart skipped a small beat. Oh no. I had forgotten about meeting the parents. Of course he had parents. What, did I think he would be an orphan?

_No, Bella, that's only in your delusional fantasies_. _Artichoke! No, I can do this_.

A second barely passed as I recovered, and I smiled as graciously as I could.

"Well," Mr. Hale looked over at Jasper, who was standing rather defensively and clutching Alice's hand. "It seems as though my merlot has run dry." He raised his empty wine glass. "Might as well enjoy it, seeing as how I'm paying for it all. Shall we?" Both he and Mrs. Hale nodded once to the small gathering and began making the trek back to the bar, stopping occasionally to greet new guests.

A collective sigh was released from the group.

"Well, now _that's_ over," Esme smiled, pulling me down onto the couch next to her, with Alice on my other side, "tell me about yourself." Jasper and Carlisle stood a few paces away, in the midst of their own conversation.

I tried not to laugh.

"Honestly, Mrs. Cullen, there isn't much to tell."

She waved me off. "Call me Esme, please, and there has to be something. Do your parents still live in Forks? It sounds like such a quaint little town."

I visibly flinched at the word 'parents.'

"Esme," Alice quietly laid a hand on her shoulder. "The situation with Bella's mother is rocky, and her father ..." she trailed off, looking to me. I nodded permission. "Well, he died when Bella was young."

Esme's face immediately fell.

"Bella, I am so sorry! There I go, asking all the wrong questions," she scolded herself while clasping one of my hands in both of hers. The contact started a slow brew of warmth in my stomach. "I do know what it's like to lose a child, dear. So, if you ever need to talk," she gestured lightly towards herself and left the offer open. I smiled ruefully, prepared to tell her it had been a while and I didn't think talking was going to do much good, when Alice interrupted me.

"You lost a child?" Her voice was filled with confusion. Esme blanched.

"Um, well, yes, Alice. Carlisle and I don't like to speak of it, but we lost a son, many years ago."

Esme's vision drifted elsewhere, tears misting in the corners of her eyes. My heart broke for this maternal woman, who had made me feel more loved than my own mother in barely five minutes of knowing her.

"So, Trevor had a brother?" Alice continued, and I glanced behind me to see Alice's forehead twisted in thought. "He told me he was an only child."

Esme pursed her lips, visibly frustrated. The warmth in my stomach turned to a cold, dead weight in seconds.

"Yes, well, it was a long time ago, and Trevor … Trevor was very, very young. We just never mention it because, well, because we don't want to speak of it." She pulled herself up and stood from the couch. "And I'd prefer if you would respect our wishes and never speak of it again. To Trevor or to us."

She had become visibly icy, her eyes closed off and worn. Stepping over to Carlisle, she whispered once in his ear. A guarded look slipped over his features, and Alice and I watched in stunned confusion as he offered his apologies to Jasper and walked away with his wife.

"What –?" I looked at Alice who shrugged, eyes wide.

"Esme's never been so … hostile before." She placed a finger to her lips. "I hope I didn't offend her too badly."

"I'm sure she'll be fine," Jasper found us, reclaiming Alice's tiny hand. "Carlisle said Esme wasn't feeling well. They were going to the bar to find her a glass of water."

Alice nodded, seemingly placated. I buried the encounter for further analysis. No matter how much I liked the smart looking couple, something was _very_ off.

Alice turned to converse with Jasper. I felt it then, a slight burning, pricking feeling, as though someone was watching me. I glanced around, unnerved, only to find that someone _was _watching me – from all the way across the room. I was frozen, a helpless bird trapped in the gaze of a python.

His dark green, gold-specked eyes were mesmerizing, even across the expanse of people. I couldn't even feel bad, because Rosalie was nowhere in sight. He was staring right back, seemingly just as locked in place. Then I saw him gesture to whoever had his conversational attention. It was a wave of farewell.

He began walking in my direction.

I felt myself break out into a cold sweat, and my hands began to tremble. I could taste him all over again, and I wanted to spit, disgusted with myself for feeling drawn to this man simply because he reminded me of the dead.

"Asparagus," I heard the murmur in my ear. It only worked half as well as it should have.

He was walking, a steady gait, so like Edward's. Ugh. I wanted to die.

"Hiding under the couch would be inappropriate, right?" I whispered back. An amused snort left Alice's nose before she could stop it.

"Hey, Jasper, don't you want to try the _asparagus_ tonight?" she hissed at me. I didn't respond. Finally, she punched me in the arm, probably harder than intended.

"Bells!"

I snapped out of it, turning away from his gaze and drawing my eyes down to the carpet. I sat in a lounge chair so there would be no room for him to appropriately draw closer to me.

"Trevor!" Jasper called out from beside me, flagging him down. Damn it. I knew he was coming this way anyhow, but still, did Jasper _have_ to point it out?

"What's up, man?" His liquid voice melted over my ears. God, I was being such a sap, but I couldn't help it. A small part of me still believed this was my best friend, and it was drinking in his presence like eternal waters. "I see you're keeping all the pretty women captive over here." I could imagine his grin. I wouldn't look up to see it.

"Alice." Her name sounded even better in his heady tenor. I saw him mockingly bend over her hand and then sweep her into a hug from the corner of my eye. An awkward pause of conversation ensued, until a sudden motion next to me made me jump. His hand found mine.

The same burning rush, followed by a warm, tingling sensation, swept across my skin and frayed my nervous system. I wasn't prepared for the contact; my eyes leapt up to meet his. He was the picture of absolute calm reserve, but his eyes smoldered.

"Bella," he whispered. And then he did the unspeakable – he pressed his warm, espresso-tasting, off-center lips against the top of my hand, directly below my middle knuckle. He lingered there. My hand was on fire, and the flames licked up my wrist. God, I wanted those lips to be pressed against mine, and I hated myself for wanting it all at once.

"Where's your lovely fiancée, you debonair scoundrel, you?" Alice broke into our moment. My eyes flashed to hers, which sparked with warning. I wilted. I _couldn't_ do this. I needed my escape word. What was it again?

Treward straightened, releasing my hand at the last moment as he turned to face Alice. I couldn't look at Jasper. It was simply a kiss on the hand, and yet my entire body was flushed. I felt as though my deepest secrets had been exposed to the world.

"She's floating around here somewhere, I'm sure, socializing while waiting for dinner to be served. Why don't you and Jasper try to find her? I've been searching all night, and I'm sure you'll have better luck than I've had." He laughed once. "I might be marrying her, but you two certainly know her better than I do."

Alice's eyes immediately shot to meet mine. I realized what he was asking. He wanted to be alone with me. Was that safe? Probably not. Did I want it? I realized, with startling clarity, I did. God, I was becoming such a tawdry slut. Suddenly, I felt the same pricking sensation. He was staring at me. I dared a glance, only to find pleading questions in his bright eyes. He wanted something from me. I had to know what.

Firmly, I nodded at Alice. She looked stunned, but I waved my hand this time. Still she didn't move. Stubborn pixie.

"It's okay guys, Trevor isn't going to bite me," I laughed, forcing the words through the bile in my throat. "Besides, I still haven't gotten to wish Rose a happy life," I used Alice's expression from the car, telling her in my own way I could do this.

"C'mon, Allie," Jasper finally pulled her away. "Let's go find Rose. We'll be back in no time." This time he looked directly at Trevor, whose smile dropped slightly at Jasper's pointed tone. Then the couple was gone, and I was sitting, face to face, with the depth of my oceans, who held out an inviting hand.

"Shall we?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Shouldn't we stay here, just in case they need to find us?"

I could tell it took everything he had not to roll his eyes. Instead he lifted one hand to the bridge of his nose.

"I need to talk to you. Privately." He held out a hand again. "Please?"

I studied him, but he seemed innocent enough. It was myself I wasn't sure of, and I would have to find my own strength sooner or later, so I nodded and took his hand. The burning sensation was lessened this time, but it still sizzled against my nerves. I almost jerked my hand away, recovering at the last moment as he led me through a sparse crowd and a set of French glass doors onto a verandah.

The cool autumn night air swirled around us, suddenly making me aware of the smoke and heat infused room we had left. I shivered lightly; he saw, removed his jacket and threw it across my shoulders. The scent of male, thick, heady, and peppered with a spiced cologne, enveloped me.

A random memory flashed through my thoughts before I could give it place. Everything about him was just so distantly familiar.

"Bella," he said my name softly, running his hand through his hair and tugging slightly at the roots. I tried not to chuckle, unsuccessfully. It was yet another distinctly recognizable trait they both shared. He glanced up at my nervous laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing." I firmly clamped my lips shut, focusing on his words. He just nodded, shifting his hand to sit on his hip. Finally, he stepped forward a few paces and stopped three feet from me.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I was stupid and wrong and I should never have done what I did, but thank you, for everything, for not telling and not trying to start anything else for Rose and I, and, well, thank you." He glanced up. "You're more than words can say, Bella."

I was quite literally stunned into silence.

"I –" I croaked, pulling the jacket tighter about me. He cocked his head slightly to the left, looking more like a small boy or inquisitive puppy dog with every moment. The right side of his mouth lifted slightly with the hints of an off-center, crooked grin. His hand picked up, obviously headed towards my face when it jerked to a stop and dropped beside him. He sighed once through his nose. I was still speechless.

"Why?" his breath blew over me, tasting this time of peppermint with the barest hints of vodka, and he leaned against the railing, still standing three feet away, his body unconsciously leaning in towards me. I instinctively mimicked his stance.

"What?"

"Why didn't you say anything? Why not rat me out?"

He was obviously boggled at the prospect of a female who _wasn't _completely infused with the gossip gene. I shrugged lightly.

"It's no one else's business." I felt slightly prideful at this admission, but the realization I had instead completely self-destructed kept my pride from carrying me too far. He made a noise of dissatisfaction and shook his head lightly.

"You definitely aren't from around here, are you?"

"No," I stared him in the eye, unable to look away. We were in our own world again, and the slow burn had started rolling through my stomach again. Any thoughts of escape were a million miles away. "Can I ask you a question, now?" My bravery was even surprising me. He looked amused.

"I guess I got you out here, so sure, why not?" He ran a hand through his hair again and leaned closer. "What can _I_ do for _you_, Isabella Swan?"

"Same question," I mumbled, barely able to breathe, but I had to know, so the word slipped off my tongue regardless of my oxygen intake. "Why?"

He physically moved backwards. I was stunned. How could he _not_ have seen that question coming? A myriad of emotions ran across his face; sudden anger morphed into confusion, then into pleasure, and finally into weary defeat.

"Honestly?" He raised one eyebrow. I nodded. "I don't know." He shook his head as he answered. My hopes sank. I had wanted something a little more … _profound_, I guess.

I let the silence flower around us and turned my gaze outward, studying the tiny pricks of light that flew by on the highway and blossomed in the sky. The stars were extraordinarily clear tonight.

"Bella?" My name was a question on his lips, and the tenor of his voice had dropped, low and husky. "Does it matter?"

I turned to look at him and almost stepped backwards at the intensity in his eyes. Somehow, though, he trapped me again, and I was helpless, scared, and willing. I couldn't speak. I merely shook my head. Indecision flickered through his eyes and he turned his head away.

"Ed –" I stopped myself, halting the word before it could escape like it _always_ did around him, when he turned and kissed me. Again. Damn. It was so depraved, and yet so sweetly satisfying, unlike his last attempt.

His lips were soft and malleable against mine, lingering pleasantly as his teeth nipped gently at my bottom lip and warm, alcohol-tinted breath washed over me. His hand reached up to cup my cheek, stroking me gently with his thumb. My eyes slipped closed, sparks spreading through me in _all_ the right places. My untouched core was moist with want.

Suddenly, Alice's appalled face appeared before my mind's eye. Reality hit me once again, like a train speeding full tilt. I pulled backwards, shoving him slightly. A light groan left my lips when my body broke contact.

"Stop." The word came out as a sob, and I choked back the tears. He looked shell-shocked, eyes spreading wide. He stepped back once, staring at me as though he was scared of me. I simply pulled his jacket tighter around my shoulders.

"Damn it!" he whispered. He began tugging mercilessly at his hair. I reached out to stop him, the motion second-nature.

"Please stop," I murmured, touching his hand lightly, pulling away when he flinched. His shoulders slumped, weary defeat resonating from every inch of him. He buried his face in one hand, the other clutching onto the railing.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, I just –"

"Look, it's okay." An unnatural calm had settled over me, pushed by the ultimate adrenaline rush. Alice and Jasper were _sure_ to have found Rose by now, and dinner would be served any minute. "Just, don't do it again, and we'll forget about it." I reached out to him, dropping my hand again when he flinched away. "You have to go back inside." I snorted. "It _is_ your party."

He looked up at me, incredulous, and opened his mouth, but I shook my head.

"You have guests to get back to, Mr. Cullen." I smiled once, doing my best to impart my abnormal peace. My many years of pretending were coming in handy. He twisted his hands once and looked at me.

"Thank you, Bella."

I shook my head again, and he moved, staring for a moment at the door before pulling it open. We stepped back inside, silent, and began to make our way back towards the fireplace alcove. I was staring down at the carpet, silently running through the kiss in my mind when I hit a solid wall. Well, more like a solid body.

I grabbed, trying to steady myself, and found my hand constricted around his arm. I stepped out from around him, ready to unleash a snide comment, when my heart stopped. My knees went weak, this time from fear.

Oh shit – shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

It was absolute, petrifying fear of the glossy-eyed scowl from the beautifully indignant blonde, whose eyes were piercing me to the floor. Alice and Jasper had definitely made it back before we had. And now?

Now, both Trevor and I were being crucified where we stood.

* * *

Thank you for reading, and don't forget, for your review, you'll recieve the gift of **Mini Moments with Treward**! In this Mini Moment, you'll be treated to the the end of this chapter - Trevor POV. :) So, why did he kiss Bella - **again**!

Much love!  
Sky


	9. Chapter Eight: Run

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Run Run Run" as performed by Phoenix, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** Thank you, always and forever, to my friend **clarabella75** for her awesome beta work. Seriously? This work wouldn't be what it is without her. And a huge thank you to all of my friends, the best guys and gals in the world, over at the FanFicAholics Page on Facebook. My life wouldn't be what it is without them. You're not there? You're not cool. :D

If you'd like to see the banner for this story, any of the clothes, a link to the FanFicAholics page, or some other fun visuals (like Treward's fun ride :D), hop on over to my profile for the links.

Okay, enough from me, thank you to everyone, and hope you enjoy!

**

* * *

Chapter Eight:**  
**Run**

_Contradictions_  
_Get me everything I want_  
_I'll let you know_  
_But I think it's gonna take a while_  
_It's a clear view_  
_No one's waiting at the door_  
_A million letters_  
_They couldn't make me change my mind_  
_I think I'd better run, run, run, run …_  
_You didn't catch me fallin',_  
_Fallin', fallin', fallin'_

_"Run Run Run" - Phoenix_

* * *

The tension thickened around us into a veritable soup of silence and bad feelings. I wanted to move, but I was trapped, and truly in fear for my life.

I couldn't even feel Trevor next to me. All I could see were the icy blue eyes of the seething blonde who looked as though she would rip my throat out before allowing any kind of explanation.

God bless the maître'd, whose voice drifted over the elongated ballroom to announce dinner. Immediately, Rosalie's face shifted at the sound, every muscle visibly loosening as she moved her gaze to Trevor, closed her eyes, and swallowed. When she opened her lids, her eyes held the fire of warning. A smile, beautiful in its fierceness, stretched across her lips.

"Shall we?" Turning, she walked away quickly.

Trevor was on her heels, but I grabbed his wrist before he was completely out of my vicinity, sliding his jacket over my shoulders and shoving it back into his hand. His eyes softened slightly as he mouthed his thanks. And then he was gone, chasing after his scorned snowflake.

My eyes found their way back to the carpet. The adrenaline was steadily draining from my body, leaving my muscles weak and a faint nausea brewing in my abdomen.

Alice's cold hand wrapped around my arm, pulling me along behind her towards our table. Jasper came to stand on my other side as we walked.

"Bella, are you okay?"

Her concern surprised me, and I nodded. Of course, the instant I nodded, the concern dropped from her eyes.

"Isabella Marie Swan, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?" she hissed, the words almost as venomous as the look on Rosalie's face. "I thought you were coming here tonight to make this situation better, not worse."

"Allie," Jasper warned, touching her shoulder from behind me. She huffed out a sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry, I know he's the one that asked to be alone with you, but still," the side of her mouth quirked up. "You told me you could handle it!"

"Well, I didn't exactly _say_ I could handle –"

"Oh come on, Bells, I know you better than you think I do, and you wanted to be alone as much as he did. What is _up_ between you two? First, you practically digest him with your eyes at the club, and now you're sneaking off to hidden places on a verandah where no one can find you?" By now we had almost reached the table and her voice had turned into a shrill whisper – not a good combination. "This is not how _my_ Bella would have acted in San Francisco. Has the southern heat gone to your head?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but the breath was sucked right out of me. Alice was right. None of this was like me. Instead, I simply took a seat in the chair Jasper pulled out for me and stared down at my plate. Alice sat next to me and took my hand.

"I'm sorry if I've been too harsh, but this isn't _you_ Bella. Just … be yourself."

I looked at my closest friend and tried to press as much conviction into my face as I could.

"I'll try, Alice, I swear."

I really did want to do better, so I moved my gaze to the rest of the table as they began to seat themselves. Bile rose in my throat.

I was surrounded not only by the Hales and the Cullens, but Rosalie, Trevor, and a few of their closest friends. Alice and I had been seated at the main table, a gigantic round monstrosity that seated twelve.

Really? Could this night have gotten any worse?

Rosalie never looked at me, although she looked straight through me multiple times over the course of the meal, always as she spoke to Alice. I remained mute and ate my supper in absolute solitude.

Both Esme and Marilyn seemed intent on ignoring me as well, and no one took any notice of my actions. I was glad to simply be seated behind the metaphoric glass wall, with no input and no bother from anyone else at the table.

Even Trevor paid me almost no attention, although I caught myself glancing at him from the corner of my eye more than once. He didn't speak over the course of the meal either; instead, I watched as he tried at least three times to claim his fiancée's hand, only to be out rightly snubbed at each attempt. He began to look ill, shuffling the food around on his plate. I unintentionally mimicked his motions, also unable to eat.

As soon as dessert had been served, Mr. Hale slipped from his seat, made his way to the stage where the string quartet played, and proceeded to toast the engagement by glossing over his daughter's lovely, well-bred life, her short engagement to Trevor Cullen, and the social aspirations which their union would most certainly seal in stone.

Sweeping rounds of thunderous applause followed him back to our table, and he sat, smugly glancing at his daughter whose cheeks were tinged in pink. Trevor was looking rather oddly at his soon-to-be father-in-law, and a small nudge at the back of my mind wanted me to turn and ask Alice what the toast had meant.

I simply figured his polite coolness and lack of reference to the lifetime joy for happy couple was a Southern tradition I didn't understand. However, one look at Alice's guarded eyes and Jasper's barely concealed fury as he clutched at her hand were enough to convince me I should maintain my mute state.

The applause continued to surround us, regardless of the musicians who attempted to begin where they had left off, and I watched from my resigned corner as Trevor leaned over to whisper once in Rosalie's ear. Immediately, her head shot around, and I could see the fury in her eyes from where I sat. Without another word, she slowly stood from the table and walked from the room.

Trevor's eyes sank back to his plate for less than five seconds before he, too, stood up and followed his fiancée from the room. I could tell the rest of the adults at our table were slightly flustered, but each seemed more than willing to chalk it up to pre-wedding jitters and leave the couple to work out their own problems.

Okay, so I probably should have taken the hint, and I probably shouldn't have convinced myself I needed to use the restroom. Instinct told me that something was rotten in Denmark.

I intended to find out what.

Excusing myself, I walked in the direction of the ladies room, glancing furtively behind me to make sure Alice wasn't following me with her eyes. As soon as I had escaped view, I slipped the heels off of my feet and padded down the hallway.

No, I really didn't have any idea where I was going, but the faint sound of a female voice tipped me off. The words became louder as I approached a doorway.

" – don't understand why you always have to blame this on me –"

"Rose, I'm not blaming you, but I am beginning to wonder if –"

"Don't give me your 'ifs,' you lying piece of shit! I don't know what's gotten into you over the past few months, Trevor, but if you think I'm going to put up with it once you're joined to me for good, you can forget about _ever_ touching me –"

The voices grew in intensity, always overlapping each other, as I drew closer to the door. It was cracked open on its hinges; just enough so I could see when a body paced past the gap. I stood with my back pressed against the wall and eavesdropped – yeah, I could call it for it what it was.

"I haven't lied to you, Rose, you never asked me –"

"So now I have to ask about everything you do?"

"I didn't say that –"

"Then what are you saying?"

"Will you let me finish a fucking sentence?"

Silence followed, with the distinct tapping of a heel on wood. He sighed.

"Look, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, I'm just …" he trailed off. "I'm just worried you're not doing this for the right reasons."

"You think I don't _want_ to marry you?" she demanded. I flinched. I hoped no one in the dining room could hear this; I was almost positive the 'happy' couple had forgotten where they were.

"Rose, I didn't say –"

"You don't have to say anything to insinuate, you jackass!"

Five distinct stomps rang out through the air.

"I am _not_ a pawn of anyone else, and I will _not_ be treated like I don't have a mind of my own," she hissed, the tenor of her voice dropping low with warning. "Don't think I haven't been watching you. I don't know what's going on with you and that little _slut_, but I swear to God, if I find one piece of evidence after we're married that you have been fooling around on me, with anyone, I will take you for every fucking piece of shit you're worth."

The word _slut_ burned at me, filling me with equal parts anger and shame.

"Don't you threaten me, Rosalie Lillian Hale," he growled.

My breath stopped in my chest.

"That wasn't a threat, Trevor. I can _promise_ every word."

I knew I should have left long ago, but I was bolted to the spot.

"Then do me another favor, and don't ever bring Bella into this. She has nothing to do with your insecurities."

My heart dropped into my stomach. Oh holy fucking Mary, mother of God. He didn't.

"Insecure? You're calling _me_ insecure?" she laughed. The sound was cold and mocking. "I'm not the one who flinches every time her name is mentioned. Oh yes, don't look so shocked and think I haven't noticed. I've been watching you for months."

"Are you just waiting for me to cheat, Rose? Ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? No wonder you've been so distant for months. I can't even remember the last you returned my kiss –"

"Me, distant? I don't know what the hell you're talking about." She paused. "I wouldn't have to be distant if it hadn't been for you fooling around on me."

"Rose –"

"No!" her screech was indignant. I pressed against the balls of my feet when I heard her heels click closer to the door. This fight was almost over, and Rosalie would have the last word.

"Don't you _dare_ 'Rose' me! I don't care how much of a conspiracy theorist you've become, my family is not plotting against you, and I will not be used. And after tonight, you can tell your little whore that she can get out of my face forever."

A few more indelicate stomps carried her away from the doorway again. "I'll even break it off with Alice, I don't care. Honestly, anyone who is willing to be friends with or defend some kind of lying, cheating skank deserves nothing but the title of madam and her own brothel. I guess that's what she's running out of our apartment now, and you're her best customer."

Tears began to burn in my throat. That bitch! There weren't enough words in the English language to describe the anger filtering up my esophagus like bile.

Call me all the names in the world, but Alice? What right did she have to turn on Alice because of me? She might have been allowed anger at me, the supposed mistress, but the extent of her ferocity against someone she had once claimed as her best friend was nauseating.

"Rosalie –" Trevor's voice was louder this time, but it was strangled out by Rosalie's words. At the sound of his voice I found I could feel my feet again, and I darted ten paces off and slipped behind the wall of an indented doorway. I pressed my back against the hardwood panels, praying for invisibility. Rosalie's words rang clear to my ears.

"Fuck you, Trevor Cullen. Fuck you and Alice Brandon. You get that brunette bitch out of my sight tonight, and if I _ever_ see her again, I swear to God, I _will_ have her crying, running back to whatever crap hole she crawled out of."

Trevor never said a word. Moments later, I watched as a whirl of blonde hair, white fabric, and scented flowers flew past me and back towards the party.

I couldn't hear Trevor, but I wasn't waiting for him. My heart was beating into my ears; vomiting was an imminent possibility.

I knew she had every right to accuse me as she had, and her words opened up deep wounds, rubbing salt and vinegar into the surface.

I was done. I wouldn't have anything more to do with their world. I would leave tonight, as soon as I could move from my place against the wall, and I would leave this all behind.

Hot tears slipped from my eyes and buried themselves into the folds of my dress. I would never give Rosalie Hale any reason to call me a slut again. I slid my lids shut and tucked my head into my chest when I heard it.

"Oh my God, Bella."

My head snapped up, my vision blurred from the tears not falling. His eyes were wide, his hand reached halfway out to me.

This time I was the one to flinch away.

"No more," I sobbed, the words spilling from my lips. "Stay away."

Before I knew what was going on, I was propelling myself down the hallway, hurriedly wiping my tears and pressing myself to run as far away from Trevor as I could.

I hesitated only a moment at the entrance to the main room, but as soon as I spotted Alice, almost in tears and pressed into Jasper's side, I sauntered to her seat. Her eyes met mine, full of questions. I knew she could see the lines of my own tears.

I spoke only once, and surprisingly, my voice didn't crack.

"Artichoke."

XoXoX

I didn't remember the rest of the evening.

When I think back, all that comes to mind is the intense need to squeeze the life out of Jasper for being so awesome and thanking Alice for setting my alarm as I drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Everything else consisted of fuzzy bits and pieces which didn't belong anywhere.

Monday morning, as I made my way into work and attempted to be the employee I knew I could, I found my mind drifting to the lost moments and searching for their missing pieces.

By Wednesday, I realized the search had become fruitless and was only helping me lose what merit I had gained with my boss.

Fortunately, Hugo was pretty much the most incredibly casual supervisor I could've had. So long as I was in the office, alert, and on my game, he was more than willing to forgive and forget the last few painful weeks.

It was like my "Days of our Lives" drama had never occurred.

I realized this Friday afternoon, around five o'clock, as Hugo was slipping out of his office and into the weekend. I was busy patching up a few images for an article in next month's issue.

"Looks grand, love," Hugo drawled from behind my shoulder.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

He loved sneaking up on me. He also seemed to believe his deep southern accent sounded British. I said he was incredibly casual. I never mentioned 'non-maddening.'

"Thanks, Hugo," I grinned, finishing up the distort on the layer and swiveling around in my desk chair. "Did you need something before the weekend was up, or were you just coming in here to ogle my work?" I smirked.

"While your work is quite lovely to ogle, my dear," his eyes flickered to my minuscule breasts and back up, "I can't say it's the sole reason I'm here."

I didn't mention 'non-pervy' either.

Hugo didn't continue, so I raised an eyebrow. He grinned wickedly.

"Things have been improving so rapidly here, Isabella, that I think you're ready for your own photo shoot."

I nearly slid from my chair. "Are you serious?"

"I couldn't be more," Hugo laughed, leaning against my desk. "You've shown vast improvements over the past few days, and we _did_ hire your ass to be a photographer, not do some manips and image glossing any intern can finish up."

I sat back, stunned. "Oh my god … you're serious." The pressure built up in my chest, excitement mingled with fear. Hugo rolled his eyes.

"Of course, it helps that the shoot is tomorrow afternoon and Julie backed out at the last minute, so you'll have to be ready to work. Does a Saturday afternoon shoot fit into your schedule, love?"

I could barely breathe in. "Don't worry, boss man, I'll make it fit." The inner bits of girl in me squealed. Hugo's grin grew.

"I knew I hired your ass for a reason. Downtown, 10:00 am, the Rigby Theatre. You should have outdoor and indoor shots, since there is a lake right near there and plenty of props to work with. Band is a small up and coming called the Whiskey Chasers. Joelle will meet up as your assistant." He rapped his knuckles on the metal door frame before exiting. "Have a good weekend, love. Make me proud."

I couldn't believe how my week had turned around.

Sunday, I had been ready to quit, move back to Forks, and beg whatever family now lived in my old house to let me live there out of pity.

Now, I was back on my game, already assigned to my own photo shoot, which I would be in charge of by myself, and I hadn't seen or thought of Trevor Cullen all week.

Well, besides just then, and the few times my mind had drifted, I had focused more intently on my work to banish them.

As I mentally played with the different backdrops I could set up around the Rigby, a small nagging protestation had worked its way into the back of my mind. Somewhere I had heard the name of the band before, but I did work at a magazine which interviewed and photographed hundreds of bands every month. It shouldn't have surprised me if the name seemed familiar.

Before long, though, the nagging had become an honest question. I saved the photograph I was finishing and clicked on the internet browser icon.

As soon as the search engine home page loaded, however, I heard the high pitched wails of "Sweet Home Alabama" blaring from my phone and rolled my eyes.

"Hey, Emmie bear," I drawled. It was Emmett who had begged for the stereotypical Southern anthem as his personal ringtone before he left Atlanta.

"Oh, so what, _now_ you decide to start in with the cutesy nicknames, huh Bells? What happened to hitting me up every once in a while to, you know, let me know you're still eating or alive."

At this, Emmett moved into his 'Bella' voice, a high pitched nasal tone I prayed daily didn't sound like me. "Oh, of _course_ I'll call you every day, Emmett. I would _never_ leave you hanging, Emmett –"

I snorted in the middle of his rant. "Oh, for God's sake, Em, stop your whining. Although, I'm really beginning to think you do me better than I do. Have you been practicing in your spare time again?"

"Only because I miss you so much," he replied, and the smacking of his giant lips pierced my ear through the receiver.

"Ew," I giggled, pulling the phone from my ear. "You should really watch how much you drool on that fancy iPhone of yours. You know they won't take them back for water damage."

"Yeah, but what about lube damage? That's not water."

I gagged a bit. "Ugh, but it's still liquid, and furthermore, it's gross. And I really don't want to think about what other kind of liquid might be on there if lube damage were to occur."

"Hey, now, you know I keep my shit clean."

"It's not your shit I'm worried about, Em." Truly smiling for the first time in weeks, I wondered why I hadn't called Emmett sooner. "So, just to get off the topic of you and your narcissistic self-love, if you miss me so much, when are you coming to visit?"

"Me? Why do I have to come there? Your ass can't afford a plane ticket yet?"

"Come on, Emmett, I just started work less than two months ago. I know Ellen's not going to be happy I can't come home for Christmas, but it's just not possible till my vacation starts in January."

"Hell, Bella, I'm sure you've got every redneck in that department wrapped around your little finger, running on their hands and knees just to have a chance to hit that."

"Ew, again, Emmett, all the guys that work here are either married or over sixty," I frowned. "Besides, what makes you think I'd dip into the office pool anyhow?"

"Cause I thought I'd trained you better than that."

"Emmett, have you even _had_ sex in the last six months?" Just before I'd applied for the job at Spin, Emmett had broken up with his long-time girlfriend, Katherine. The short, fat, red-headed bitch had cheated on him after two years spent making his life a living hell.

At one point, my incarceration in return for her death had been a serious consideration.

"Bella, have you even _had_ sex?"

I flinched. "Point, set, match."

"Honestly, Bells, your spontaneous combustion from lack of man-lovin' has become a serious concern of mine."

_Mine too_.

"Anyhow," he continued, "I called because I had some good news for you."

I moved back to my computer. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Get your ass ready, cause Papa Em is comin' home to roost," he bellowed into the phone. I could almost see him puffing out his chest.

"Uh huh," I was focused on typing the name of the stars of my upcoming photo shoot into Google when Emmett's words hit me. "Wait, what? What do you mean you're 'comin' home to roost'?"

"Well, Bells, to be honest, I've been laid up in a hospital bed for the past two weeks. Managed to get myself a hip pointer, a few fractured ribs, and a cracked femur during practice at the beginning of the month."

My mouth fell open. "What the hell? You're the assistant defensive coordinator, Emmett McCarty! How in the hell did you manage that? You're not even supposed to be on the field during practice!"

"Look, I was taking the assistant coach's place for a few days, and some of the guys and I might have gotten a little over enthusiastic –"

"Uh huh, meaning they didn't appreciate your 'coaching' techniques?"

"Something like that – anyway, the technicalities don't matter. What does matter is I'm out for the season. They've promised me a job next year if I don't sue, but I have to rest till February, doc's orders. So, I figured, since I'm being forced to sit on my ass for the next five months, I might as well come and sit on it some with you. Huh? What do ya think?"

I could hear the need for approval in his voice, like some overgrown, five-year-old who only wanted a lollipop from the store. "I don't know, Em. I kinda have other people in my life now. Have you talked to Alice yet?"

"Of course, babe, you didn't think I'd leave _you_ to communicate with the she-witch, did you?" There was something in his voice I wasn't sure I trusted, but I was about to agree when Emmett opened his big fat mouth again. "Besides, we both agreed having somebody else there would be good for you."

I felt the heat crawl up my face. I scowled. "Well, if the only reason you're coming is to babysit me, you can save the airline points and find some ass in the Bahamas." Disenchanted, I moved back to my computer and pressed the 'enter' button on my keyboard.

"Bells," Emmett whined into the phone, "it's not like that, I swear! Come on, you and I both know you have trouble living without me –"

"Emmett," I ground out. I was frozen, and his name was the only word I could push through my lips. Mentally, I was pleading with whomever thought this was fucking funny. I _knew_ it all was too good to be true.

Murphy's Law was like the byline for my life.

"Bella?" I knew he could probably hear me hyperventilating through the phone. I couldn't speak. "Bella, what's up? What's wrong? Isabella – Izzy, answer me, don't just pant into the phone like some panther in heat –"

"Emmett. Shut. Up."

"Shutting, shutting," he mumbled.

After a few more moments, I managed to force myself to move the mouse over a few inches and click on the fated word – 'images.' The colors popped up all over my screen, mottled images that cleared as the page loaded.

I nearly dropped the phone. Emmett stopped shutting.

"So, Bells, are you really against me staying for a while? I mean, I figured I could just sleep on elf girl's massive couch, or if you're really pissed off, I can get a hotel room –"

"Emmett," I squeaked. I cleared my throat. "Please shut up."

I moved the mouse over the third picture on the first line and clicked. The image filtered in before my face.

On a concert stage, foggy orange, black, and grey layers danced among the three figures standing in between the filtering lights, zoned on nothing but the music. And center stage stood my reason for flight, my ultimate checkmate. His copper tones were highlighted by amber streaks. He was absolutely fucking gorgeous.

I swallowed thickly.

"Emmett?"

"Bella?" He sounded annoyed. I didn't care. I could feel hot tears forming.

"How soon can you be here?"

* * *

Yes, ladies and gentleman, Emmett has entered the building. :D Okay, remember, click that little button and receive a special treat from me! Not sure yet whether this chapter will be another mini-moment, or a teaser, but if there is something in particular you'd like to see, let me know and I'll do my best to work it in!

Much love!  
~Sky


	10. Ch Nine: Satisfaction Never Guaranteed

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Animal" as performed by Neon Trees, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **Okay, making this as quick as possible, because I have to head out but I felt bad enough for not getting this out last night! I really DO have an excuse - our power went out, leaving me internet-less and computer-less, so I hope no one is upset with me! On the other hand, the extra wait makes this one of the longer chapters, with a lot moving forward, so hopefully this can make you happy!

A special thank you to the miraculous Beta-Mom, **clarabella75** (I'll find you those Bubble-Print Chucks and e-mail them to you for Christmas :D) and my awesome new fic-wife, **Puppymama0909**. Yes, we got married! As congratulations, you should go read her stuff, cause she writes great non-cannon, even for those who are cannon lovers like I.

As always, thank you SO MUCH to all of my AWESOME reviewers, my great readers, and everyone who has taken the time to love this as much as I do. You are ALL stunning.

Don't forget to **check out my profile** for awesome **eye candy** and to join in the best party ever over at **FFA**!

* * *

**Chapter Nine:**  
**Satisfaction Never Guaranteed**

_Here we go again  
I kinda wanna be more than friends  
So take it easy on me  
I'm afraid I'm never satisfied  
Here we go again  
We're sick like animals  
We play pretend  
You're just a cannibal  
And I'm afraid I won't get out alive …_

_We both can't fight it  
It's us that made this mess  
Why can't you understand?_

"_Animal" – Neon Trees

* * *

_

At 14, when my world crashed in on itself, I had Edward to wrap me in my comforter and find me in the midst of my tragedy. More than I understood, he saved me.

At 15, when everything shattered again and I ventured off on a journey towards insanity, I had Emmett to hold my hand and tape together the pieces he managed to find. In his way, he saved me.

At 23, when I was certain denial was not just a river in Egypt, and I finally arrived in crazy town, I had Alice to pick me up and point me towards the light of hope and salvation. As much as she didn't know, she saved me.

This time, I had no one to find me, to duct tape my pieces, to pick me up and show me the way.

No one could save me.

The late afternoon sun crept in through my open window, beams highlighting soft colors in the wood floor and illuminating dancing dust mites. Autumn breezes shifted around translucent red curtains, their ends billowing out to catch on the bed frame.

The light shifted around me, fading into nonexistence and leaving its cool chill in the darkened room. I hiked my knees up to my chest and crossed my ankles, tucking my chin into my knees. Chill bumps raced up my legs. My gym shorts and t-shirt didn't cover enough for a fall evening.

I sat.

As I sat, I thought, and as I thought, my gaze never wavered. I was fixated on the black wooden box, no longer than my forearm, no wider than the breadth of my hand, sitting, in the corner, on the top shelf of my closet.

The steel lock had glinted tauntingly in the sunlight, but now it lay dull and dim. I couldn't bring myself to touch it, to caress the cold, smooth surface and break open the combination. Its silver pieces hadn't been touched since it snapped closed, brand new, nine years ago.

What lay inside was too much; I wouldn't be able to contain myself if that box was opened. The contents were as black as the ocean swimming in my memories, and made of the same material.

And yet I kept it with me, as close as I could allow, those contents as precious as the sparks of memory I would never welcome. They kept the sparks alive, burning just below the surface, remnants of a past literally locked out of my grasp.

I longed to spill them all over my floor, to spread them before me and define my misery. But to do so would mean jumping head first into an ocean of doubt, swimming in my fear, and embracing my nightmares.

I shivered lightly; my fingers tightened around my knees.

I was terrified of doing it alone, and tonight, I had never been lonelier.

Alice was gone before I reached the apartment, on a date with Jasper I had forgotten right after it was mentioned. I had almost talked myself into sharing my secret, if only to let go of the burden for a few moments, but the cold darkness of her room was enough to dissuade me.

Emmett wouldn't arrive until Sunday, although he promised he would stay for as long as I needed.

Which left me, alone, to deal with tomorrow.

If I was going to be saved, I would have to save myself.

My stomach growled once, a deep, grumbling ache that brought me out of my trance. My legs pulled out in front of me. With some force of will I didn't know I possessed, I sprang up from the bed, slammed my closet door shut, and tramped down to the kitchen.

Pulling out the leftovers from Pasta Thursday, I popped the Tupperware container into the microwave for a few seconds and then flopped down on the couch in the living room, turning on the TV. None of the lame reality shows could entertain my mind, so I settled on a little quality time with the Bradys and feasted on lukewarm baked ziti.

Soon, though, I found my thoughts wandering back to the top of my closet. It was right there, so close, full of answers to questions I never thought I'd have to ask. But now, if I were honest with myself, I wasn't sure I wanted them. Not yet.

I couldn't face Treward with confirmation I truly _was _losing my mind – or worse, confirmation I wasn't. The mysteries locked away needed to stay away. Knowledge was not power.

Instead, if I was going to enjoy my art and make this photo shoot successful, I would have to put aside my personal fears. I could keep my life out of my art, right? I pulled myself a little straighter in the couch cushions.

It was only work. And there were three other guys in the band. It wasn't as though I had to _talk_ to Treward. Actually, it wasn't as though I had to hold a conversation with anyone. I was taking photos, not performing interviews. I could do this, I really could.

I would do it, for no other reason than I had to. And I would avoid him completely while I was doing it. I had so convinced myself of my amazing powers of evasion, I took a long, hot shower and slept soundly that night.

Come morning, I was back to seriously doubting my sanity.

"Ms. Swan?" whispered a tentative voice beside me. I jumped and snapped my head left, towards the sound. My neck moved so quickly, I'm sure my face probably blurred. I think I pulled something.

Beside me, the tiny Haitian flinched. Liquid sloshed around inside of the cup in her hands, brown ribbons of coffee dribbling down the sides. She smiled a little and held up the Styrofoam container like some kind of sacred offering. "I thought you might be able to use this."

God, even she could sense my tension.

"Thanks, Joelle," I sighed, accepting the cup and attempting to breathe the tension out of my shoulders.

It didn't work.

The small woman brightened slightly and nodded once. Obviously she didn't recognize the 'ready to snap at any moment' look. "Is there anything else I can do for now?"

I turned back to the set before us – an empty green room filled with classic, fifties style decor. Lighted vanity mirrors hung over built-in wooden makeup tables, the varnish peeling perfectly. The entire room was antique, with deep, olive green, suede furniture, which looked like it had been vomited up by the seventies. The garishness, however, still managed to work with the simple, brassy chandelier lamps placed strategically around the room by Joelle and me.

Three of the stage assistants the Rigby Theatre had provided me were carefully moving the wooden frame of a baby grand piano outside by the lake for the second location of the photo shoot.

"No, I think we're all done in here, but if you could go measure the outdoor lighting and take some test shots to prep the aperture settings, that'd be great," I flashed her a smile, watery at best.

"Of course, Ms. Swan," the young girl turned quickly to do my bidding.

"And don't forget to account for the glare off the lake," I called behind her. Eager interns were the best. Fingering my coffee cup and taking a long draw, I winced. Disgusting.

As soon as I made my way to the food table and began to dump three packets of the sweet stuff into the cup in an effort to make the bitter caffeine ingestible, I felt his sudden presence like an electric current razing my backbone. He was in the room. His laughter echoed across the wide space. I breathed in slowly and stirred the coffee.

He cleared his throat, directly behind me. For an instant, my stomach twisted and a shiver raced through me. I buried the sensation and clutched at the Styrofoam in my hands.

_Big girl panties, Swan._

I turned and drank, cringing as the scalding, still bitter liquid coursed down my throat.

"Guys, this is Isa – Bella, are you okay?"

I had attempted to turn the cringe into a wide, open lipped smile. I think it may have come out looking more like some odd, sickly grimace of a dying walrus.

"Mmhmph," I mumbled, fully swallowing and panting a little. Trevor merely ran a hand through his hair, an amused grin holding back what was sure to be full out laughter. He turned to the men behind him, who were obviously restraining their guffaws.

I wanted to die in my favorite, bubble print Chucks.

"As I was saying," Trevor waved his left hand towards me, his right shoved roughly in his pocket, "this is Isabella Swan, soon-to-be famed photographer, currently assistant photography editor at Spin magazine." He waved his hand at the two guys who stood behind him. "Isabella, the guys."

"Ricky," a short, lanky blonde murmured shyly, and began to pull a hand from his jeans.

"Feel free to call me Bella," I nodded, holding my hand out in return.

"- And _you_ feel free to call me _anything_ you'd like," a tall, dark, brown haired stranger leered, cutting off the blonde and grabbing my proffered limb. "But uh, until you make a decision, you should know that these losers call me Marshall."

"Uh huh," I pulled my hand from his and did my best not to cringe. God, was this how Emmett picked up women? Ugh. Gross.

Shaking off the sensation, I motioned towards the few makeup artists meandering on the sidelines, by the donut table.

"Okay, let's get started, shall we? Have you all –"

Trevor held up a hand. "Oh yeah, we're all _well_ acquainted with Tricia."

I think he grimaced. I held in my own laughter at Tricia's wave and supposedly coy wink.

"Okay," the word was drawn out while my eyes wandered over their wardrobe. "Nice solids, a good mix of darks and lights," I nodded slowly in approval, trying not to linger over the way Trevor's loose, slim fit jeans clad perfectly to his well-formed ass. Gah. "Glad to see you all decided to follow someone's advice."

"That would be Alice," Marshall chuckled, tugging on his button down, "who has become our personal wardrobe assistant. Said she couldn't have us mucking up our first big shoot."

"Ah," the word fell out of my mouth ungracefully. It figured. She _would _dress Trevor in clothing that made his irresistibleness drop dead sexy. Of course, she had no idea this had become my shoot today.

But that was beside the point.

Dark grey, straight leg jeans hung low on his hips, mirrored nicely against a light grey t-shirt and crisp, white button down, which brought out the peach in his skin and the auburn in his light brown hair. A black, leather jacket hung on his arm.

I thought Alice _didn't_ want me molesting Rose's fiancé.

The other two boys coordinated well in varying shades of the same colors; obviously Alice's penchant for interior design carried over into her ability to create a great scene and prepare for any backdrop.

"Okay, well," I set the coffee down on an ambiguous table, hoping it would disappear, "why don't we get started? You three just go mingle and mess around so we can work on some group shots. After, we'll move to the individual stuff. Oh, also, I'll be doing some test shots first, so just ignore me and be yourselves."

I couldn't help the smile pulling my lips apart as I talked; I was eager to get started. Ricky and Marshall nodded and walked away, the smaller shoving the larger, obviously protesting something.

I walked to the nearest table to pick up my baby – my Canon EOS 5D Mark II – and sling the strap around my neck. One of the best professional cameras on the market, it had been my Christmas present from Renee's Hollywood fling last year, as they both attempted to buy my presence on Christmas day.

I couldn't say it worked, but having an absent mother obviously had its perks.

I started to finger the controls, watching the lighting bars and playing with the shutter speed, when a throat cleared in my ear, again. I jumped and spun around, paralyzed when I saw Trevor not three feet behind me.

He spoke before I could squeak.

"I just wanted to say that, well … that I'm glad it's you. Thank you, Bella." A slight smile highlighted his words, and he caressed me with his eyes before turning and walking away.

_Caressed me with his eyes? What. The. Fuck, Bella. _

I was struck speechless.

This was becoming an alarmingly normal thing around him.

_What happened to those big girl panties, huh Swan?_

If it hadn't been for the considerable amount of people swarming around me, waiting for my cue, I might have slapped myself. What the fuck did I think I was doing?

No doubt I had talked myself into absolute denial last night, but now?

Now I was screwed beyond belief.

And I _still_ had to find some way to keep my job. If only he didn't _talk_ to me again …

Inadvertently, my vision cut over to the three men who were goofing around, shoving each other off of couches and acting like … well, like boys. Except Trevor, who stopped roughhousing and gave me a very odd look.

_Damn it, Bella, pull yourself together!_

I could do this. I had to do this. There was no choice.

So instead of dwelling in the moment, I drew courage from my blue lace thong and pulled the camera's viewer in front of my eye.

My world transformed.

I was no longer a part of the human populace; I was above it, floating, capturing, living, and breathing in this enchanted plane. The lens was my vision and the universe was splayed out before me, waiting for me to capture it, to control it, to see it for what it truly was.

My characters moved for me, because of me, first together, and then separately, as I became the artist, the painter, the only living being who could capture their souls.

Photographs never lied.

Before I knew it, forty-five minutes had passed, and I was drawn back into reality, which seemed brighter and more muted all at once by the world behind the camera. Each one of the band members was being interviewed for the article in between the location shoots.

I was still floating, my feet gliding across the wood to the sparsely covered food table. I grabbed a bottle of water and plopped ungracefully in front of a bay window to gaze at my next set.

A snapshot high? That shit was better than marijuana any day.

Which helps to explain why I didn't jump ten feet in the air when a warm body slipped up and into the metal folding chair behind me, so near I could feel the heat and electricity wind around my bones.

Trevor.

Time ticked slowly by, neither of us saying a word. His leg pressed against mine, my arm brushed his shoulder. I swam in the silence, a warm trembling in the pit of my stomach telling me I was home – telling me I was _whole._ Something I hadn't been sure of in years.

He finally stood up and moved his chair around to face me.

"This coffee," he mumbled, "is shit."

I giggled. God help me, I _giggled_. About coffee.

"Oh come on, it's not …" I trailed off when he raised an eyebrow at me.

"No, I'm serious, I think it's literally shit," he laughed, sitting the container on the floor next to him.

"Maybe," I laughed a little more and fixed my eyes on the lake. The silence enveloped us.

Finally, turning my head from the window, I looked over at him. He was leaning back, relaxed, his eyes focused on the sun-infused water and tall, waving grass rolling like a sea in the breeze.

After a few moments, he faced me. I blushed, discovered, but a warm smile crept along his lips and immediately wiped away any embarrassment.

"So," I trailed off, fingering a strand of hair, "how are you?"

God, I was so lame.

Trevor smirked a little, but an unexpected sobriety crept into his face. He sat straight.

"I think you'd be a better person to answer that question, Bella."

Of course I knew what he was referring to, what he was asking me. And any other day, I'd have become rigid and resistant.

But right now ….

"I'm good. I don't think I was so much before. I mean, I know I deserved it, but Rose was kind of a real bitch – to Alice, especially – and … well, anyhow, now … yeah, I'm good. Oh, also, I'm really sorry for snooping around, by the way."

Wow. Getting that off my chest? That shit felt good.

Trevor stared at me. I think I stunned the hell out of him. Well, I did say the high was better than drugs, didn't I? I honestly wasn't sure I comprehended the word vomit spilling from my mouth.

"Okay," he nodded slowly, "Good … I'm glad you're good –"

"Set up for two!" The voice burst through the air.

I turned my head to find the source of the sound which nearly ruptured my ear drum and saw random crew members moving towards the back exit. Marshall, Ricky, and the interviewer were nowhere to be seen.

"Shall we?"

Trevor stood above me and held his hand out. Grinning, I took it, finally not flinching at the electric pulse shooting through my nervous system, leaving a trail of pleasant heat behind. As soon as he pulled me up, he released his grasp.

We walked, side by side, towards the exit, his hands shoved in his pockets, mine occupied with my camera, resisting the temptation to scroll through the pictures. It wasn't my job to sort through them. I never looked until I received the finished product.

I stopped in my tracks, however, when Trevor slid in front of me at the door, facing me and preventing my exit.

"You know, you are the most direct person I have ever met."

"Um … thank you?" I raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was insinuating. He laughed.

"Trust me, it's a, well – I mean …" he looked me over, "It's just – it's different, to hear what you really think."

I snorted. My wits finally caught up.

"Thanks," I shoved past him, out the door and into the sunlight.

"I'm serious," he protested, following me and jogging a few steps to keep pace with my harried walk.

"Yeah, sure, look, I'm a blunt bitch, I get it. Not like it's the first time I've heard the words."

"No, Bella, that's not what I –"

I threw one hand up in irritation, blowing him off, and walked faster. He grunted, frustrated, as I left him further behind. Slim, strong fingers wrapped around my upper arm, halting me.

"My God, woman, would you stop and listen to me?"

I stopped, silent, and turned inward on the ball of my foot, his hand loosening its grip and sliding down to my forearm. My expression radiated skepticism. He shut his eyes and sighed through his nose, running his other hand through his hair before opening them again.

"Look, it's just – I'm not used to women who truly mean what they say." He grinned a little. "Around here, in this … society, I guess, it's all about the subterfuge … the lies. Everything that comes out of their mouths is just hiding what they really mean. Except you," he turned his head a little to the side, curious puppy eyes burning in full force. "You're different. It's refreshing to me, Bella, your honesty." Finally, he smiled, his expression softening and morphing into something that left me warm inside. "It's nice."

"Oh." Damn it. Speechless again. He rolled his eyes and dropped my arm.

"I feel like you never say anything around me unless you're pissed."

"Shit, no, I just … I'm sorry for kind of jumping the gun there, I just –"

"Hush, Bella," he pressed a finger against my lips. "I was joking. Just take it as a compliment." He paused. "I guess it's why I enjoy being around you so much."

His finger slipped away. My lips mourned the loss of contact.

"I –"

"Hey Trev!" Marshall's voice echoed between us. "Stop trying to molest the photographer so we can get this show on the road! I wanna get to the bar before I'm thirty and Ricky here has to work!"

"Keep your pants on, douche!" Trevor replied, a lopsided grin stealing my breath before he turned and walked towards the piano. I noticed he had slipped the jacket over his white button down.

Chills raced down my spine at the sight of his defined shoulder blades sloping to a fitted waist and perfectly round, tight ass. I could imagine wrapping my fingers around his ass, the electricity we both shared vibrating into my fingertips.

Shit. I was so fucked.

Somehow, with some sort of will power even my perfect panties could not provide me, I worked for the next hour without stopping. I separated myself from reality and my situation. Time passed, slipping through the flashes of my camera and the slap of the water against the grassy shore.

And then time was gone. Stage hands and company lackeys had removed all of the equipment besides the empty piano frame. Even Joelle was gone, riding with the rest of the crew to deliver everything to the office.

I was on my back, arms over my head, basking in the sun and the grass waving softly, filling my ears with a gentle swoosh. I had snuck back outside after everyone besides the stage hands were gone, eager to calm my anxiety and lose myself in peaceful serenity.

And all I could think of was him.

Edward. My Edward.

Trevor had no place here, in the small time I allotted myself after a good shoot. It had become tradition. Edward had always loved my photography. Over the year and a half before 'it' happened, he had dotted his walls with my 'art,' as he called it. I could never tell him, at fourteen, that he was the one who inspired it all. Even after he was no longer around.

And so I always spent time with him after every shoot. Usually, I told him all about my shoot, my life. I told him I was sorry for not coming to chat more often. I told him I missed him.

But today was different.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him about the shoot. I couldn't tell him I was falling for his irritating twin, who happened to be engaged, and I was going to hell permanently and might not ever see him again.

I could only see him, laughing, as I told him I missed him. My lids were shut, seeing the auburn brown of his hair in the colors of the sun dancing, scattered beneath them. His hand brushed my arm, swept over my shoulder, and pressed against my cheek.

Edward. _Nothing is the same anymore. I can feel you, in the sun, in the grass, but without you here, it's hard to breathe. You gave me my colors, showed me the sky. Edward … I miss you. _

_Then find me, Bella._

I frowned, confused. He'd never answered before. What –

"Bella?"

The name broke into my consciousness again, and I opened my eyes.

Trevor hung over me, shaggy brown hair tumbling into his face. "They're about to lock up. I figured you might want these."

He dangled my keys in front of my face.

"Yeah," I mumbled, disoriented. "Thanks."

I sat up and stretched my arms in front of me. My subconscious was confused. I kept feeling Edward's voice wash over me like a warm, healing bath, but Trevor hovered in front of me, his eyes alight.

I was blending the two.

Bad move, Bella.

Dropping the keys in my lap, Trevor walked over to the prop piano bench and began to run his fingers over the white ivory. I watched him curiously for a bit, his long, lithe hands effortlessly rushing across the piano, in what I was sure would have been a beautiful melody had there been any strings or dampers inside the frame. His eyes were closed, his entire body in tune with the instrument, almost molding into the wood.

I had only seen one other person play with the same emotion, as though their soul was borne on the notes I couldn't hear.

The hair along my arms stood on end.

I shook the thought away and, pressing myself from the ground, sauntered over to the piano.

"How long have you been playing?" The words slipped off of my lips easily, a conversation I wasn't sure if I would regret starting or not. He opened his eyes dropped his hands to his lap.

"I don't –" he stopped. Irritation quickly swept across his face before he stood and wiped it away. "For as long as I can remember, I guess."

"You guess?"

He nodded and, taking hold of my arm, pulled me sideways a bit. It wasn't until I was fully around I realized he was moving me out of the way. The stage hands were carting the piano to its rightful resting place.

"Well," I started towards the parking lot, Trevor trailing behind, "it looked like it would have sounded beautiful."

He chuckled. "Maybe one day I can let you hear it."

"Maybe."

We finished our walk in silence. Trevor stopped as soon as our feet hit the pavement, next to a beautifully polished, bright red Mustang. I found myself nearly drooling.

"Is that –"

Grinning he nodded.

"Is she –"

"Yeah, she's mine." I think he may have actually puffed out his chest. "It's okay, you can touch her. Eleanor likes to be stroked."

I burst out laughing, edging towards the '67 Mustang GT500.

"I can't believe you copied her name. Man, that's just lame."

"Hey, now, if Nicholas Cage can't get it right, no one can."

I rolled my eyes at his obvious obsession with _Gone in Sixty Seconds_ as I ran my hand over the steel body and chrome door handle, peering in at the factory, vintage seats. He smirked.

"Is it original?" I pointed through the glass.

"Oh yeah," he murmured, stroking the hood. "Every bit of her is. Guess I just have a soft spot for things from the past."

"Obviously." I couldn't say I wasn't a little jealous, watching him caress the car. He looked up at me.

"You want to drive her?"

"Me?" I squeaked. My immediate answer? Hell yes! But in an instant all of the ramifications of driving anywhere with this man, in this car, came crashing down around me. "Trevor, I really don't think that's such a good idea, especially with our past –"

"Come have a good cup of coffee with me. I want to talk to you, please. It's just coffee, Bella, no one has to know. Rose isn't even in the state. Urban Grind is right down the street, so it's just a little drive, a little coffee, and a little conversation." He pouted a bit and held up his keys. "You know you want to handle her."

I nearly salivated at the chance to drive the amazingly gorgeous piece of machinery. I wasn't even a car aficionado, and I knew what kind of opportunity this was. But I also knew the downside of this opportunity; the kind of mess I could manage to create, for us both, loomed above me.

My body was pulling me in two different directions. Most of me – the slutty part – longed to slip inside of the car and spend more time with the man who, for reasons unheard of, I was unutterably drawn to. A much smaller part was telling me going with him would be morally wrong, on so many different planes of reality.

The sad part? My slutty side won out more quickly than I would have liked.

"Fine, but I drive round-trip, and you have me back to my car in a half hour, deal?"

"Deal," he grinned, tossing me the keys over the car as we switched sides. I slid into the driver's seat and pressed my foot against the clutch, turning the ignition. Eleanor rumbled to life underneath my hands; the vibrations humming between my legs and up my arms nearly sent me into catatonic shock from pleasure.

"You know how to drive a stick?"

I smirked.

Instead of answering, I shifted quickly into reverse, slid the Shelby out of the parking lot, and raced in the direction of the coffee house. We were there before Trevor could breathe another word.

I slipped the keys from the ignition and tossed them into his lap.

"I have a weakness for fast things," I shrugged, grinning maniacally. Muscle car driving high was almost as good as snapshot high.

Opening my door, I climbed from the car just as Trevor regained his tongue. He quickly jumped out and followed me into the building.

"Jesus, woman. You could be a little nicer to her."

"What? Please tell me you drive her like that all the time."

"Hell no!" he gaped at me. "Every woman needs to be loved on smooth and slow from time to time."

"Yeah, and every woman needs to be driven hard from time to time too." I replied snarkily as I sidled up to the counter. "Grande, non-fat white chocolate raspberry mocha, please."

The barista stared, open mouthed, at my comment.

"What?" I glared at him, ready to jump down his throat; a completely uncalled for reaction due to the Eleanor induced power high. Fortunately, Trevor was there to tame me and save the poor barista's head.

"I'll have a venti caramel macchiato with a double shot of espresso, please, and one grande, non-fat white chocolate raspberry mocha for the lady. Thank you." He paid for our drinks and looked at me. "Why don't you find us a table?"

"Sure," I nodded and slipped into a plush lounge chair, situated around a coffee table scattered with magazines. After a few moments, Trevor joined me.

"Thanks," I reached for my mocha, "I don't know what got into me."

Trevor seated himself next to me. "Haven't I told you yet to stop apologizing to me?"

"No," I murmured, looking down as I took a long draw from the drink.

"Well, then stop apologizing to me." He reached over and swept a few pieces of hair out of my face. "Like I said … I find you refreshing to be around."

"You're the first," I muttered into my straw.

"Really?" He seemed sincerely surprised.

"Yeah, most of the guys I've dated usually ask me to tone it down. I guess their tiny male egos couldn't take the truth." Trevor snorted, and I looked up to see his sardonic grin. "What?" I protested. "That's when I break up with them. I'm not going to have someone tell me who I need to be."

Trevor's gaze sobered, and he studied me for a moment. "It's going to take a very special person to win your heart, Bella."

"Yeah," I mumbled, "thanks." _A special person that no longer exists. _At this point, I would be a spinster for life. In resistance to this, my mind switched gears. "Enough about me, how about you and Rose? How did that match made in heaven come to life?"

Trevor frowned. "You don't have to patronize it, Bella." I withered a bit at his rebuke. "But, all in all, I guess our story is the same as any other." He sighed and leaned backwards. "We met in high school, at Pace Academy, my senior year. Jasper was one of my best friends, and I fell for his older sister. End of story."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Well damn," I sat back myself, disappointed. "I was hoping for some star-crossed lovers, written in the heavens or something." Not.

Trevor laughed. "Not so much. This is real life, Bella, not a passionate romance novel."

"You don't think passionate romance can happen?"

"I don't think it has to. Passion burns out, like a fire on kindling. Comfort and safety in a love is what lasts forever."

I frowned. "To never have passion in your life -"

"My music is my passion."

My frown deepened. "But you do love her, right?"

Trevor stared at me, his mouth half open like a hooked fish. "She's all I need, Bella. And that should be enough."

"I guess you would know better than me," I smiled wryly, letting the subject drop. "What about this mysterious past you keep telling me is such a long story?"

"A story that's way too long for," he glanced at his watch, "the fifteen minutes we have left till I have to get you back to you car," he smirked. "Besides, it's my turn for questions. I want to know about your past. What about your parents?"

My heart clinched a bit. What was it with these Cullens and their penchant for talking about my parents?

"Um, well, my mom emancipated and abandoned me about six months after I turned sixteen, and my dad …" I trailed off, catching Trevor's flinch at my first statement. He was going to love my second one. "Well, my dad was my life. He died when I was fourteen."

"Bella, I –"

"It's okay, Trevor, I know you understand death. I really don't want pity, please."

He looked at me oddly. "What do you mean?"

I narrowed my eyes, rolling Esme's odd reaction to Alice's statement at the engagement party over in my head. "I'm really sorry for bringing it up, but you lost a younger brother, right? Your mom got a little upset with Alice for bringing it up at the party; said you were really sensitive about the matter."

Trevor looked away, and I saw his jaw working slowly, the skin tightening around the bone. After thirty seconds, however, he turned back to me.

"I'm sorry if my mother said anything to upset you or Alice. She's just really protective over me, for personal reasons. Sometimes," he glanced away again, out the window wall to our right, "I don't always remember things from when I was younger."

Immediately, without allowing me time to respond, Trevor glanced down at his watch and stood from his chair. "It's time for me to get you back to your car, if I'm going to stick to our deal."

I wanted to speak up, to delve further into the mystery surrounding this man's mind. His situation had become even more fascinating to me with every word.

Instead, I read in his eyes the harsh rebuttal of any question I had. It was almost as though he'd let something slip he never intended to share.

This would be a mystery I'd have to solve on my own.

I rode Eleanor hard again on our way back to my car, trying to lose myself in the thrill of the engine purring underneath my hands. However, by the time I had exchanged goodbyes with Trevor and gotten his address so I could bring over the final proofs sometime next week, the question had worked its way to the forefront of my mind again.

I almost couldn't believe his confession of occasionally losing memories. Sometimes memories just went away, right? I forgot things all the time, as did most of the human race.

Trevor, on the other hand, seemed more than a little upset at forgetting. As if he knew more than he wanted to let on … or maybe he knew less than he was letting on.

Were Esme and Carlisle Cullen some kind of child slave-trade ring leaders?

_Really? What the hell, Bella?_

My mind was racing a hundred miles a minute, and while my Spidey senses were definitely on full alert, I still didn't have enough evidence to reveal my conspiracy theories to anyone else.

Well, anyone else who wasn't mental, like me.

I pulled into the garage, my mind still mulling over all of the conversations with Trevor and Esme, the odd looks and the even odder behavior. Pulling my camera and my handbag out behind me, I stomped up the stairs and began to fish around for my key when all of a sudden my highly preoccupied mind realized something else was wrong.

Some kind of rock-techno-hip hop music was pouring out from underneath the door, its thrashing rhythms interrupting my heartbeat with the bass. I glanced over at the apartment number to confirm I was opening the right door when it hit me – the only imbecile I knew who listened to music this annoying was the giant teddy bear who was coming to roost in my apartment.

A huge grin lit my face when I realized he must have arrived early, let in by Alice, while I was out at the photo shoot. I looked around for her car to no avail. Giving up the search, I hurriedly thrust my key into the lock and threw open the door.

"Emmett, I can't believe you lied –" My voice had started off high, but I trailed off at the sight before me.

The giant teddy bear was snuggled into Alice's even larger couch, while a gorgeous, slim blonde sat curled, cat-like, on the other side of Emmett's foot. His splinted leg was sitting in her lap, one hand settled languidly on the cast while the other pressed over her ear as she grimaced at the noise coming from the speakers. A small smile played over her lips.

"Bella!" Emmett bounced a little on his throne. My mouth fell open. "Have you met –"

"Rosalie?"

* * *

Oh no! :D Find out more next time! **And for lovely teasers and insight, click that beautiful button down there and review**! I promise, they'll come earlier this time. :) Love you guys, Merry Christmas, Happy Quanza, Happy Hanukkah, and Happy Holidays to all!


	11. Chapter Ten: Release

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Believe" as performed by The Bravery, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **First - THANK YOU to EVERY SINGLE ONE of my AWESOMELY EPIC READERS for waiting as long as you have for this chapter! I hope you've all stuck around with me, and if you have, YOU HAVE A SMALL PIECE OF MY HEART. :D There are no excuses for not posting, so I will only offer up real life drama in the hopes that you all will still love me.

Second - **Clarabella75** - You rock my world! (No, really.) Guys, I seriously have the most awesome Beta-Mom Extraordinaire Ever. Thank you for keeping my commas in check, for bringing back my orphaned letters, and for just making complete sense of the sentences I fook up. Her WIP "Home" is awesome Vamp cannon and should be read ASAP! http:/www . fanfiction . net/s/6327011/17/

Third - **Puppymama0909 - **ILY, my awesome Ficwife. You make my ego much bigger than it has a right to be. :) Your stories are my inspiration for writing. Your Jasper makes me want to jizz my pants. This Jasper-filled chapter is dedicated to you love! Don't know who she is? You should! http:/www . fanfiction . net/u/1822692/Puppymama090

To **Kd Masen, Mezz, Ali, Anisah Lovesstories, Rae Marie, **and all of the other amazing ladies over at **FFA**, thank you for being my support and my laughter. I LOVE YOU ALL!

**

* * *

Chapter Ten:  
Release**

_I am hiding from some beast  
But the beast was always here  
Watching without eyes  
Because the beast is just my fear  
That I am just nothing  
Now it's just what I've become_

_So give me something to believe  
Cause I am living just to breathe  
And I need something more  
To keep on breathing for  
So give me something to believe._

"Believe" – The Bravery

xOxOx

"_Bella!" Emmett bounced lightly on his throne. "Have you met –"_

"_Rosalie?"_

She froze at the sound of my voice. The smile playing at the edge of her mouth peeled from her lips, surprise and anger forming a hard mask that was somehow both petrifying and beautiful.

Well, what did she expect? It was my apartment.

I, on the other hand, was beginning to think my life resembled an episode of _Punk'd_.

"_Dayton's on ya feet, diamonds in ya piece, and I like the way ya ass move to the beat. You a freak, that's somethin' you can be, keep playin' wit me, then I gotta hit ya peeps."_

The oddly constructed beat thumped against my heart, interrupting its natural rhythm. Emmett was, as usual, oblivious.

"See, I told you it was great, right?" he yelled, turning back to the blonde who was gingerly lifting the heavily casted leg from her lap. Her gaze immediately shifted to his, and she smiled.

My God, she smiled … _sweetly_.

I felt queasy … and somewhat terrified.

"Yeah, it is, but I think we should turn it down." One perfectly manicured nail pointed at me. "It looks like _poor Bella,"_ she sneered my name, "is about to have an aneurism."

Emmett glanced over his shoulder and pouted, totally missing the vitriol in her words.

I still couldn't move. I was having an out of body experience. Each of my limbs caught on fire, flames of shame burning through my bloodstream. I could have painted my body with Rosalie's Russian red lipstick and looked more natural.

I wished they would stop staring at me.

Shit. Where were those damn unicorns when you needed them?

I'd have preferred a fairy fucking a leprechaun in a green tutu to the way Rosalie was fixated, her glowing, sapphire eyes casually intent on my spontaneous combustion. At least then I could have called the nearest mental hospital myself. Right now, I was going insane with no one to stop me.

I must have finally burst into flames, because Rosalie stopped casting her judgment of eternal damnation and stood from the couch.

Abruptly, the noise ceased. My heart regained a natural rhythm.

Well, then.

If Rosalie's motion was all it took, I wished she would have stood up a long time ago. Her perfectly poised hands smoothed over grey, travel wrinkled cotton.

"Thank you for everything, Emmett. Good to know not every annoying airline passenger is a waste of time." Rosalie slipped a hand into Emmett's. "Let me know if I can do anything to help while you're visiting.

I was the inanimate observer, non-existent in the scope of her little game.

She was ignoring me.

She was _daring _me to run and tattle.

And Emmett, the bona fide, barnyard-raised blockhead that he was, played right into her lithe hands.

"I'll be sure to do that," he winked. He _fucking_ winked. Ugh, Christ … I would have to diffuse this fire fast.

Her back stiffened when she turned towards me. Two glamorous, glistening breasts, which, I swear to God, were so perfect they glowed like those fucking bioluminescent fish, spilled out of a cherry blouse. Angels would rightfully trade their wings for those boobs.

I decided I couldn't blame Emmett for staring. Hell, even _I_ couldn't take my eyes off of them.

Until she spoke, that is.

"See ya, Hellen Keller."

In an instant she was gone, leaving behind a smug Emmett and the cloying scent of fresh roses.

Spring became my least favorite season.

Turning to the giant moron on my couch, I wanted to be happy he was here, but instead I found myself fighting to get through to his big, and little, brains that neither was going to be finding any happiness buried in angel breasts anytime soon.

My camera strap slipped effortlessly around the banister. Breathe in once, and –

"What _the hell_, Emmett McCarty?" My purse vaulted across the room, followed by Emmett's crutches.

"Oh, come on, Bells –" The purse missed. The crutches didn't. "Shit!"

I stomped away towards the kitchen.

"No, _you_ come on … seriously Emmett? Can you not spend twenty minutes in the city without trying to get into the nearest blonde's pants? Especially the most eligible and unavailable blonde with the perkiest breasts in a tri-state area."

Emmett hobbled after me, yelling, "I was just trying to have some fun, and for your information, excelling at having a great rack is no reason to – wait, unavailable? Why the fuck is _she _off limits? Just because you've got some kind of epically hot '_Mean Girls:_ Battle for the Perfect Tits' going on here?"

I snatched bread from the cabinet and slammed the Goober jar down. For some reason, being angry made me hungry. I was starving.

"Oh please, after twenty two years, you think I don't recognize the classic McCarty moves? God knows your dad tried them on my mom every Christmas till I was twelve." A huge splat of peanut butter swirled jelly landed on the slice of Sara Lee. "And Ms. Flawless Cantaloupe Mounds is off limits because she's Southern royalty, _engaged_ to one of her loyal courtiers, you idiot."

"I – oh."

Blessed silence followed. I leaned against the counter and munched on my PB&J. The view from our kitchen window really was stunning.

A few cabinet doors slammed around until I heard ice clinking in a glass, followed by liquid.

"So, really, she's engaged? 'Cause, she never mentioned it in the past few hours I was here. Actually, she didn't mention it since Dallas."

_Bitch._ I finished chewing.

"Yeah, Em," I swallowed, "she's engaged, no matter what she told you." The rest of the sandwich didn't feel edible. Rolling nausea replaced my desire for food.

She would lie, cheat, and make herself out to be a total bitch, and for what? A person she didn't seem to give a damn about?

I turned to watch Emmett throw back a few pills.

"What?" He shrugged at my raised brow. "They're pain pills. I'll probably be out soon, so you should come and join me while you can."

I followed him to his initially chosen hibernation area where he slid back into the indentation his body had begun to form in the couch. Alice would not be happy, but thoughts of the pixie's hissy fit didn't faze me right now.

"What do I do with you then?" I slid into the space Rosalie had vacated, tucking neatly behind Emmett's cast.

"I dunno," he shrugged and yawned. "Let me sleep, I guess."

"Here?" I pointed at the couch.

"Sure. Why not?" He snuggled in a bit. "This fucking thing is better than resting on angel boobs."

"Hey. Remember our talk? No touchy."

Emmett waved me off, and I knew it would take everything I had not to snicker at the look that would take residence on Alice's face when she walked in to find the hulk imprinting on her Italian leather.

"So," I shoved at the foot propped in my lap, "while you're still a part of the land of the semi-conscious, how are your mom and dad."

"Pretty good. Mom's ecstatic since Dad retired last month. I think they're going to St. Lucia for Christmas this year."

"Oh, I get it now. That's _really_ why your bum ass is here – you needed a place to go for the holidays."

"Hey, I've got the leg too!" The respective limb vaulted from the couch while Emmett waved it in front of me. I shoved the object in question out of my face again.

"Yeah, and two female nurses to take care of you and your bum leg, you hobbit."

"Excuse you. I have too much … hygiene … to be a hobbit," he yawned.

"What?"

"I think … the hair … ears. Yeah … tall … pretty … I'd definitely … be … elf."

"What the hell are you smoking?"

Emmett grinned.

"Good … shit." One last yawn. The foot landed back in my lap. "I'm here … for you … Bella."

His jaw slacked. Light from the sun tangled in deep black curls and played along his arms, reaching for me. He was Emmett again, as he had been. Always childish, always lame … always there.

Floods of comfort, warm and soft, filled my chest. He was my constant, my pillar. Through death, insomnia, terror, depression, he had never left my side. He was my home. I wasn't sure why I ever thought I could run away from this … from home. For the first time in weeks, I felt safe.

In the midst of uncertainty, anger, and hurt, safety was rather refreshing.

Refreshing and reminiscent.

I hadn't realized until now how familiar the feeling was. The shelter, the stability … it all wrapped around me like a giant security blanket every time I was around _him._ Trevor … or Edward … or Treward … or whoever he was.

My forehead throbbed.

He felt like Edward, he looked like Edward, he smelled like Edward, he sounded like Edward – fuck, he even _tasted_ like Edward.

And everyone insisted – he wasn't Edward.

Em's foot slid into the crevices of the couch. My hands slid across my face and through my hair.

I was done being alone in this. The weight was crushing in on my shoulders, and I could feel the pain and confusion snaking up my neck, crackles of exhaustion at hiding, at wondering.

I needed someone to talk to, someone who wasn't delirious inside of a narcotic-induced coma.

When I stepped inside the trendy bar in downtown Atlanta, however, I began to rethink my decision. It was nearly five o'clock, and while the place was a restaurant as well as a bar, the dozens of vacant plush leather seats and barren interior left me with a sincere lack of hope for intense, soul searching conversation. I could almost see the tumbleweeds.

I remembered Alice mentioning this place several times as a favorite hangout of hers. Subconsciously, I had hoped to see her tiny self flitting about the tables, performing her favorite pastime – socialization. Now, I just felt stupid. Of course Alice wouldn't spend her Saturday afternoon in an empty bar.

I guess convincing myself of delusions had become _my_ new pastime.

Instead of dwelling on that depressing notion, I slumped down into a bar seat, anxiously ripping the edge of a napkin and contemplating a handful of peanuts.

"Three in the afternoon is a little early to be startin' up, isn't it?"

My fingers stilled.

Of course this was Alice's favorite bar. This was the day job for her favorite bartender.

I glanced up into familiar blue eyes, immediately searching for a comeback. I must have been more disappointed than I realized, because all I managed was to ball the small square piece of paper in my hand and offer up a weak smile.

"You tell me," I sighed, wanting nothing more than to lay my forehead on the bar top, defeated.

Jasper whistled low. "Hey, Jake, I'm gonna take my fifteen now, you good?" The words disappeared over his shoulder.

"Sounds perfect," resonated back from the other end of the bar, where a group of three had become the only other patrons I could see. Jasper grinned at me and, throwing another napkin out by my hand, he tossed a tall glass into the air.

"Water or –"

"For God's sake man, liquor, please."

"Bella," he eyed the gaze I had turned on the complementary nuts, "what have you eaten today?"

"Fine." I scowled a bit. "But at least give me a Coke." He filled the glass. I gave him puppy dog eyes. "A _little_ rum wouldn't kill you, right?"

My gaze must have been pathetic and repentant enough, because half a shot of Bacardi 151 made its way in front of me, swimming in the bubbles of a freshly tapped soda. I sighed, ready to take a long draw, but Jasper was beside me before my lips could reach sweet satisfaction. He laid a hand on my arm.

"My feet need to rest before I can finish up my shift. Why don't you join me?"

He walked away, leaving me to follow.

Well … I _had_ wanted someone to talk to. But the object of my confusion's future brother-in-law? Yeah, that was a stretch even for me.

Of course, Jasper usually seemed to be the only sane one.

_And_ he had given me liquor.

Reluctantly, I pulled myself from the barstool and, grabbing the glass bowl of nuts as an afterthought, I slid into the seat across from him. Then I popped a few nuts into my mouth, effectively killing any chance of being required to start this conversation.

"Well, Bella," Jasper fixed me with a look, "since you don't seem to be very forthcoming, and I'm not one to mess around with small talk, which one of my deceptively despicable family members has you determined to either become a shitty alcoholic or commit suicide by alcohol poisoning?"

I almost spit out my nuts.

"What?" I squeaked.

Jasper didn't even have the decency to pretend to believe in my squeak of evasion. I withered imperceptibly under his raised eyebrow, and immediately the sarcasm vomit scalded my tongue.

"Oh, fine, what, you're some kind of psychic now?" He wasn't even phased.

"More of a mood reader." The corner of his mouth quirked up. He leaned towards me. "And I get the feeling you need someone to talk to, Bella. Why not try me?"

_Really?_

I absently twisted the straw in my soda and dug my teeth into my cheek. I couldn't deny his intuition; I _had_ come here searching for some poor soul to help bear my disillusionment, but I had expected the ill-fated individual to be my roommate, not her boyfriend of two months.

It didn't help that he also happened to be brother to the woman who desired my death by spontaneous combustion and best friend of the person who held the key to the conundrums which floated around me like ghosts in a mist of uncertainty. Could I trust him?

His bright blue eyes were inquisitive and warm, searching and … caring?

This was different.

There had never been anyone I could trust; never anyone I cared to trust. No one who cared enough about me so I could even attempt to work on my trust. Not since Edward, at least.

It was a Mexican standoff.

Either he was the antithesis of his sister, or he was merely a pawn in her plot to see Bella go down in flames.

Before I could decide, the words were spilling from my lips, eager to trail over into someone else's air and be reassured, once and for all, how cracked I truly was.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Excuse me?"

Yeah, with that kind of opening, it was probably the reaction I should have counted on.

_Okay, rein it in, Bella. Let's try this again._

"No, that's not – I mean, have you ever felt something … something that can't be possible, but everything within you knows that it is, and you can't tell anyone else, because … well … no one else would understand?"

"I think we all have, in one way or another," Jasper nodded a bit. The heat of his gaze swept across me, inquisitive and scalding. "Everyone has skeletons in their closet."

I snorted under my breath.

"Yeah, but at least their skeletons _stay_ dead."

"I'm sorry?"

I dropped my eyes and pulled my drink to me. What had happened to self-control? Apparently I left it with lucidity.

Liquid slipped past my lips a few moments longer as I weighed my next words. Jasper waited patiently, a light smirk filtering through his compassionate gaze.

I sighed.

Fuck it. Hidden secrets, hollow words that only hinted at meaning … they were why I was here in the first place, weren't they?

_Pretty padded walls, here I come. _

"I know I'm not the only one who has to cope with a secret, Jasper, but … what if you're not even sure you understand what you can't tell? And you think someone else might have the answers, but truly, they're probably just going to prove how much of a nut job you really are. Because it's all so confusing, and sometimes you're certain you aren't a lunatic, but then something else happens to snap you back to reality and there's always _her_, always in the way, and—" I paled, mouth hanging open as I halted mid-sentence.

Jasper's eyebrow rose in surprise. I realized my faux pas.

_Shit_.

"Shit. Jasper, I–I –"

A warm finger pressed lightly against my stuttering lips. My mouth closed and he pulled it away, unable to hide the smirk.

"You know, Bella, you don't always have to hide everything. There are some people who want to trust you," he smiled again, "and who want you to trust them."

I sank back into the plush leather, suddenly spent.

"Honestly, Jasper? Trust?" I sighed. "That part of me was broken a long time ago."

"Then stop being so scared shitless."

"Excuse me?" It was time for my eyebrow to rise. "I'm not scared shitless. Fuck, I'm here, confessing, sharing secrets, right?"

"Not quite, Bella," he chuckled. Bastard. "We've been talking for," he glanced at a gold band, "nearly ten minutes, and you haven't told me a damn thing. You haven't told anyone a damn thing in weeks. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder when the last time you told anyone a damn thing actually was."

Well … damn.

I got the distinct feeling he was calling me out.

And for some reason, it wasn't anger at his accusation bubbling up inside of me; it was curiosity.

The more I considered his words, the more I wondered … was he right? My father had left me, Edward had broken me, and my mother had abandoned me. Each had flung me out into the sea, savage and alone, one unwilling to hold my hand and the others unable to wipe my tears.

Even Emmett … but no, that was a lie. Emmett hadn't abandoned me. Emmett had never known.

So I had built my wall, framed in sarcasm, pain, and distrust, to keep out the water, to hold back the spray of the limitless ocean which threatened to swallow me whole.

I was hiding. It was so obvious; I was nearly swept under, my breathing shallow, a sucker punch to the gut. And I was facing it again – my ocean, a deep chasm, a vast stretch of hollow desolation, rimmed in tears and fear.

It was time to jump in – feet first. And me? Well …

"I … I'm terrified."

Barely a whisper, a breath of air across parched lips, and yet he knew.

Large, warm fingers wrapped affectionately around mine, encasing them entirely.

"It's okay. But I think it's about time for you to take a chance –"

"No." Mentally, I reeled at the idea. I had dipped my toes in once, considering, trying to trust, and I had only been torn apart – by his kiss. "I've tried to be brave, Jasper, and I just end up broken. I can't stop being scared."

"You don't have to stop being scared, Bella. Fear, and being able to live despite it all … well, it's what makes life worth living. And being brave? Being brave is just knowing you are scared, and not letting it hold you back." Pulling back, Jasper tugged a hand through his hair and looked away. "It's just, usually, the things we're most afraid of are the ones that take faith … in ourselves."

His eyes were unfocused and uncertain, almost as though he was no longer talking to me alone. I studied him, the diminutive clinch of his jaw, the agitation glimmering through striking blue eyes. I knew.

The struggle was not mine alone.

"Okay … fortune cookie much?" I gave a weak laugh, the sound cutting through the silence. Shades of gratitude wiped across Jasper's face. I let out the small breath I had been holding.

"Nah. Got that one off of a kid's show," he grinned, then stood. "Now, I need my nicotine fix in the last five minutes left to me." A pack of cigarettes slapped once against his thigh. "We should do this again, Bella. I like you."

"Um, thanks … I think."

I stood, walked my glass back over to the bar, and was halfway to the door when his voice stopped me in my tracks again.

"Hey, Bella?"

I didn't turn.

"Trust yourself. Sometimes you're more right than you think you are."

The faint click of his boot heels carried him out the back door of the bar.

I was relieved he wasn't able to watch me vanish from the bar as swiftly as my feet would carry me.

I slid into my car and raced from the parking lot as hastily as I had driving Eleanor. Well … almost as hastily. My poor little Toyota couldn't keep up with the muscle car's speeds.

My heart, on the other hand, was surpassing Eleanor as it threatened to pound right out of my chest.

_Sometimes you're more right than you think you are._

My hand slipped against the steering wheel, slick with sweat. What – no. No, I couldn't even bring myself to think about it right now. Could I?

Now that Emmett was here, I had more proof. I had someone else who might believe me, who would at least either see what I saw or tell me I truly was unbalanced.

Honestly, I didn't have much choice on the bravery front there.

Emmett meeting Trevor was unavoidable.

And with that realization, my spontaneous combustion became more inevitable.

I slid into the driveway and threw open the door, eager to get inside, when a slap of glacial October air burst against my skin, slowing my walk. I pushed my way through the air towards the door, my heart slowing and head clearing while I carefully pushed it open.

I was met with emptiness. A deep, inky darkness had settled over the living room where a slumbering Emmett lay snoring, buried sideways into the leather.

My heart cracked a little.

Who was I to think I could keep this from Emmett? Or even more so, to think I could present it to him with no conclusive evidence?

They had grown up boys, best friends, linked to each other in a way I never could be to either. Edward had been an integral part of Emmett's life, connected in so many ways beyond just him and me alone.

As much as he belonged to me, he belonged to Emmett.

I had been so selfish.

This fight, this mystery … it wasn't just for me. It was for Emmett, too.

Emmett, who had lost a brother, torn from his life just as painfully as he had been from mine; yet, he had never once criticized or accused or done anything for me beyond holding, cradling, and comforting.

Uncovering the truth would be for me, for Emmett, and most importantly … well, most importantly, it would be for Edward.

Before I could think any further, my feet carried me up the stairs and into my room. My hands wrapped around the long, thin, black wooden box. It smooth surface slid along my palms. A shiver of anticipation raced down my spine. The setting sun filtered in through my translucent curtains, red and quivering with the same apprehension racing through my bones.

I sat in a puddle of light and placed the box in front of me, my fingers ghosting over the lock, tracing the combination.

I remembered it, there was no doubt. Now, I simply had to find the courage.

_Being brave is just knowing you are scared, and not letting it hold you back._

_Edward._

Quickly, I twirled the lock, the metal gliding smoothly over hidden numbers. And then, the cold metal was in my hand, free and unbound, broken and waiting for me to open it and find what lay inside.

I lifted the lid before I lost my nerve, and tears stung my eyes before I could touch the first photograph.

My memories.

Years and years of pictures, young and somewhat older, through winter and spring and summer and fall, I had buried my memoirs with him, inside of this box. A dried wildflower, perfectly crumbled, caught my eye. I couldn't lay a hand on it. My chest ached, my heart pounded against its bonds, struggling to break through the barriers.

But what lay on top …

My fingers slid against the cool, slick surface. I couldn't not touch it, knowing I hadn't placed it here, in this box, with the rest. This was Emmett's addition. It had to be, because I had never seen the image before, although I recognized the memory without hesitation.

It was September, a perfect fall, mere weeks before the beginning of the end, the first death to rock my fourteen-year-old world. Emmett had been on Fall Break, home from university, and the three of us had been raking leaves in Edward's front yard. However, things had gone from 'raking leaves' to 'toss Bella into the leaf pile' before I even had a chance to defend myself.

I'm not sure who had taken the picture, but the moment was perfection. Vibrant leaves, red and orange and yellow, floated in the air, swirling around our three forms. Emmett had hold of my calves, and Edward had me captured underneath the arms, while my pink and brown marshmallow coat flew out behind me, my arms flailing in struggle, laughter resonating around me despite my supposed disapproval.

One large, salted blot splattered against the photograph, and I hurried to swipe it away on my pant leg. I had saved the picture, but for me, the damage had been done.

Hot, sweet liquid slipped down my cheeks, cascading in silent tribute to the childhood, the dreams, and the lives swept from out of our grasp. It was immortalized here, a way to remember what we had lost, and maybe even someday to find it again. A memorial to the past we shared.

To the joy, the freedom, the absolute love of life that shone from the wide smiles, the line-free faces and perfect companionship most don't find – well, ever.

Slowly, the tears ceased. The sun had set long ago, leaving my puddle of light draped in a thin shawl of darkness. Chilly night air crept in through the cracks in the insulation.

I sniffled and breathed in through my mouth, the cool air thickening against my tongue. Slipping the picture back into the box, I tossed the lock onto my desk and stood, steadily shoving it back onto its rightful shelf.

I would solve this mystery, no matter what it took. I was still afraid of the ocean spread before me, the memories threatening to overwhelm my senses and leave me breathless. I wasn't ready to be breathless, to be lost in a sea of anger and hurt, so instead, I would have to let my boys, my lifelines, save me. I would do this for Emmett. I would do this for Edward.

But most importantly, I would do this for me.

And as soon as I had my evidence?

Esme Cullen would be receiving a visitor.

* * *

If you feel inspired? Leave some love, and love will be returned! (as faster updates, Emmett meeting Treward, and finally discovering THE TRUTH!) :) Much love!


	12. Ch Eleven: Confessions: Honest Mistake

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Between the Lines" as performed by Sara Bareilles, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** Hello all. I want to keep this quick, but first I'd like to give an especially huge shout out to my ever awesome Beta-mom, **clarabella75**, who beta'd this and got it back to me even in the midst of a sick child. You are awesome babe. Thank you. :hugs: Also, to my ficwife, **Puppymama0909**, thank you for always being here to support and lift me up. Love you much babes. To all of my readers and reviewers, silent or otherwise, thank you for the time you've spent with me. This story is a special piece of my heart, and it's always amazing to hear that you love it or are caught up in it as much as I am. To all of my **FFA** ladies and gents, thank you ever so much for your awesomeness. You all rock. :)

Now, on to the fun stuff ... hope you enjoy.

**

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Chapter Eleven:  
Confessions, Part One:  
Honest Mistake**

_Time to tell me the truth  
To burden your mouth for what you say  
No pieces of paper in the way  
Cause I can't continue  
Pretending to choose …_

"Between the Lines" – Sara Bareilles

x0x0x0x

I slid through the front door, icy bites of October air snapping at my heels while a whirlwind of fluttering leaves fought to escape from the treacherous outdoors with me. I stopped for only a moment, to brush nature back out where it belonged, before slamming the door shut behind me.

Clinched muscles released into a weary breath; my shoulders slumped and the barely used, fur-lined trench coat from my trips to visit the McCartys shifted open. Warmth curled around my frostbitten toes, winding up my legs and around my torso in welcome pinpricks of heat.

Dropping my purse on the couch, I inhaled deeply and halted in my tracks.

What the hell?

My heels slipped off and into the corner of the landing as I shifted towards the kitchen, sniffing again. The package inside my coat crinkled at the motion, burning against my side.

My initial plan had been a hasty retreat to my room, but the aromatic scents wafting through the pleasantly heated apartment had diverted me from my path. Not to mention the missing presence of Emmett McCarty, which was becoming more and more usual as the days shuffled by.

I clutched at the hidden manila envelope with the top of my arm, padding towards the kitchen and sniffing hesitantly along the way. The spicy sweet bouquet intensified the closer I drew to the open doorway. It all smelled suspiciously like …

Oriental pasta and puffed pastries.

My jaw nearly dropped at the wok sizzling on the stove, a myriad of vegetables swimming with noodles in a sweet, brown sauce. Beside it, rice rolled at an even boil while the oven baked at a steady 400 degrees. A fresh pan of chocolate turnovers sat cooling on the island, a bowl of chocolate chips ready to be melted and drizzled sitting unconsciously beside them.

The pixie was cooking. Something was up.

I snuck silently through the doorway, pulling an edge of flaky crust away and popping it into my mouth before my roommate noticed. Her indignant squeak followed close behind as she slapped at my hand. I grinned as nonchalantly as possible.

"Okay, Alice, what do you want?"

"Me?" her eyes lighted on innocence. I knew better. "What, I can't cook my best friend her favorite meal, just because?"

"No," I squeezed my arm to my side a little more tightly. The faintest feathering of butterfly wings stirred in my stomach. The intense desire to throw the envelope's contents all over the kitchen table grasped me for a moment, but intense fear held me back.

Alice pouted a bit and turned back to the stove. I peeked over her shoulder, working not to run straight up the stairs and rip into the envelope, and sniffed a bit more.

"Alice … are those … drunken noodles?" A quick grin stole across her spritely face. "I didn't even know you knew how to make those."

"Sticky rice, too," she nodded towards the boiling pot on the other side.

"Well, Miss Rachel Ray, Jr, it all smells delicious." I grabbed another piece of the same turnover I had snacked off of before. Alice shot me a dirty look.

"Good."

"So, really," I chewed slowly, watching her. "What do you want?"

Alice turned from the oven, hands on her hips.

"I just wanted to have a nice, home cooked meal with my best friend," she pouted, her small lip puckering out. "Is that so wrong?"

I raised my eyebrow. I loved Alice. I also knew her just as well as she knew me. She was a fantastic chef, but there was no way in hell she would simply cook for the fun of it. Her eyes shifted at my look and she turned back to the stove.

"Well, I _was_ kind of hoping … that Jasper could stay the night tonight." She raced through the words at true Alice speed, my ears struggling to follow.

"What?"

She whipped back around to face me, grasping my wrists in her tiny hands.

"I invited him over after he gets off work tonight, and I was really hoping he could stay the night, but I know it's against the roommate code, and I don't want to piss you off or have you pissed off at me and –"

"Whoa, Alice, take a breath, seriously. Look, it's fine. I'm completely cool with Jasper staying the night." I ripped off another piece of turnover. "All you had to do was ask."

"Really?"

I couldn't help my smile at her stunned expression.

"Yes, really."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Alice threw her arms around my waist, squeezing me tightly before whirling back to her meal. I finally picked up the entire turnover, un-iced, and pulled off another bite.

"So, where's Emmett? I feel like he came to visit someone else, as much as he's been gone." It had been almost two weeks since Emmett's less-than-expected arrival, and I had only seen him a total of three days.

"I know! It's great, right?" Alice flipped the heat down on the stove. "I thought he was going to be all underfoot, annoying the shit out of everything that walked like some crack happy, barely housebroken puppy, but instead, he's barely been here!"

I snorted a bit and swung open the fridge, grabbing a diet coke. "Yeah, I've noticed." The coke fizzed as it popped open. "Where is he this time?"

Alice shrugged daintily as she pulled the rice off of the burner and replaced it with a double boiler to melt the chocolate chips.

"I don't know, out with some friend?"

"Alice, he's been here for two weeks. 'Friend' is a little vague." I sipped at my coke. Come to think of it, he hadn't mentioned where he'd been off to at all. "Has he said anything to you at all about where he's been going?"

"Not much, just something about some guy he met on the flight out here." Instantly, the turnover fell to dust in my mouth. Alice continued, unfazed. "You know, I think it's really good for him to get out of the house though. He obviously seems to be really great at making friends, and you shouldn't worry about him so much, Bella." The chocolate began to melt.

My stomach rolled.

"I'm only worried about him making the right friends," I mumbled, tossing the rest of the turnover onto the counter. "I'm gonna go change into something comfy." My feet shuffled ungracefully across the tile floor.

"Dinner'll be ready in ten!" Alice called behind me.

Gathering my heels and purse from the living room, I tramped up the stairs to my bedroom. The black trench immediately slipped from my shoulders, the manila envelope hitting the hardwood floor. My gaze wondered absently over its pale yellow surface.

I was jumping to conclusions again. I had to be. Alice had said it was a "guy" Em had met on the plane … but would he lie? To me? About Rosalie?

I could barely admit it to myself, but my answer was a soberly resounding 'yes.'

I slumped onto my bed, head in my hands, my fingers anxiously playing with the roots of my hair. I had so much other shit to deal with. Didn't Emmett understand I didn't need more?

No. Of course he didn't. Because I had still been too chicken shit to confront him or anyone else, for that matter … which brought me directly to my second point of contention.

The envelope.

Shifting, I reached down and grasped at the edge. It slid along my fingers, cool and unrepentant. The contents shuffled. I tossed it on the bed beside me, standing and stalking over to my closet to change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Murphy was laughing his ass off at me.

I sank heavily onto the mattress. The envelope slid into my thigh. I stared at it dejectedly – again. I knew what was in it. There was no way I couldn't know.

_Knuckles cracked against my office door, throwing it open._

"_Hey, Bella?" Joelle's voice chimed. I didn't turn around, just waved her in. A thick, short manila envelope hit the desk beside me, knocking the mouse out of my hand. I glanced at the offending object and then up at Joelle, raising an eyebrow. _

"_Sorry," she smiled apologetically. "Hugo asked me to run these over to you before heading out. Since the office is going to be closed till Monday and everything, he wanted you to get these back to him by then." _

"_Have a good weekend," I called, nodding absently, and turned back to the layout slowly transforming under my mouse clicks. _

"_You, too. Oh, and hey, I guess I should mention the boss wants your picks – you know, the ones that are gonna make it into the spread, which means you're gonna have to get together with the band this weekend. Their contact info should be in the company logs, okay? Have a good holiday, Bells!"_

_My finger paused mid-click. _

_Oh. Shit. _

I couldn't believe I had forgotten.

It seemed like such a simple thing to remember, a hurdle I would have to jump. I had promised myself I would find the courage to face my fear, but the images now laid on film were an entirely new, muck filled layer of ocean I wasn't sure I was ready for. I wasn't dealing well with my new found resolution.

And now, thanks to Emmett, I was trapped, embedded in my sticky mud, surrounded by a slowly rising tide.

My fingers scratched at the edge of the package, hesitantly separating paper from glue.

"Dinner's ready!"

"Coming!" The yellowed envelope joined the glinting lock on my desk.

I slid downstairs and into the kitchen, salivating at the scent.

Alice had truly outdone herself. A large portion of drunken noodles sat in a wooden serving bowl between two sets of oriental bowls and chopsticks, complete with individual bamboo serving cups, overflowing with sticky rice. The chocolate turnovers sat on the island, freshly glazed and glistening.

Of course, I was barely surprised. The meal had Alice stamped all over it. I even spotted a third bowl set off to the side, obviously for Jasper. I know she saw my smirk, but I chose not to comment, sparing her my snarky side in return for her fantastic cuisine.

I couldn't have told you this before I sat down at the table, but that night was everything I needed. As the noodles slid through my chopsticks, mingling with the carrots and chicken, the broccoli and onions, savory and sweet interweaving on my tongue, everything inside began to unwind.

I smiled, I laughed. I threw soy sauce.

I realized it had been weeks since Alice and I had spent an evening together, simply her and me and our lives, a small piece of history pulled from our college years.

It was heaven.

About halfway through our after dinner clean up, the door bell rang. I watched while my tiny friend nearly leapt out of her skin, sweeping her long dark hair up into a messy bun, her beautiful green eyes nervous and thrilled all at once, scattered locks falling against her flush cheeks, breathless.

My chest clinched.

"Do I look okay?"

A smudge of chocolate swept across her cheek from our turnover war.

"You look beautiful, Alice. If he doesn't love you, he's an idiot."

"Thanks." She turned towards the entrance, only slightly less ruffled. Nervous excitement vibrated from her limbs, and my neck began to tense again. I followed her from the kitchen, turning at the stairs.

"Making myself scarce," I winked. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Alice snorted. "In that case, Bella, I might as well send him home."

The door swung open before I could offer a proper retort. Jasper's deep tenor drifted up the stairs. The dull pain in my chest throbbed a little, and I wrapped my arms around myself, quietly shutting the door to my room.

His arms would slide around her, warm, comforting, completely encompassing her figure. I knew arms like those, arms that made you feel safe and truly special. Arms that would never wrap around me in love ever again.

I picked the envelope up off the desk, hands playing with the edge I had torn before, finally understanding why fear had engulfed me. I was afraid of being _right_, because if I was right?

I had already lost him to someone else.

The paper ripped, course and abrasive to my ears.

Slick, glossy proofs slid out, scattering onto the mattress around me, a few slipping onto the floor. I recognized them, vaguely, each a small part of me and my vision, what I had seen and sought to capture in such an unreliable venue as film. Most of them barely touched me; some had great lines or angles or shadows. They reflected my job, my design, a piece of each member shining through my set.

Not one moved me.

It was absurdly anti-climactic.

I piled the proofs on top of one another, stacking them gently and sliding them back into the envelope, setting them aside for further study another day.

Somehow, it was almost as though a small hole had opened up inside at their insignificance. I had expected something larger, more daunting, and instead they were merely … images.

Don't get me wrong, some of them were damn good, it was just, somehow, I had expected more.

I leaned over and gathered the few scattered along the floor, preparing to stuff them back into the envelope and toss it back onto the desk, when a white shape on the floor caught my eye.

I had missed one.

I pulled the photo to me with my toe, sliding my thumb underneath the edge and flipping it over beneath my gaze.

It was a sucker punch.

I couldn't breathe; reality had bitched slapped me, and I hadn't been ready for the hit.

Edward sat, bottom lip cinched lightly between his teeth, caught in a moment of unadulterated fascination. Behind him, the sky slid into the deep blue of the lake, a sharp contrast to the vivid green of the grass and intense black of the piano and his jacket. He was fixated on the keys before him, fingers caught between motion, joy and pleasure radiating to blend with the sunlight.

I leapt from the bed, the envelope landing on the floor and the black box of my past throwing itself open beside me. I flew through the pictures, memories I hadn't opened up in years, caring only for one image alone. Halfway through I halted, fingers hovering over a faded photograph.

I placed them, side by side, on the comforter.

They were identical.

The background had changed, of course, certain bits and pieces of furniture that were not mine morphed into pieces I'd never thought to see again. But the subject … the fascination … it was none of the precision and all of the imperfections I had forever loved and longed for.

_Sometimes, you're more right than you think you are._

Trevor was Edward.

I didn't know how, or why, or who, or when, but some way, somehow, the two were one.

I needed answers. Now.

Before I lost my courage, I leapt up from the bed, quickly shoving the pictures into the box and the box back into my closet, and finally pulling on a pair of chucks before wrapping my trench coat around me and flying down the stairs.

Light from the television flickered in the darkness of the living room.

"Bella?" Alice's head sprang up when I clattered down the stairs. I froze.

"Need to run to the office. I, um, forgot something, for the long weekend." Weak. Every bit of my excuse was weak. I lurched towards the door.

"Hope you find what you're lookin' for, Bells." Jasper's elegant southern drawl sounded much too perceptive.

"Thanks," I yelled as the door slammed behind me. The photos I cradled to my chest, practically running to my car and only glancing at the clock after I was speeding down the interstate. 8:52. It wasn't too late, right?

"Shit!" My foot involuntarily slammed against the floorboard.

I didn't know their address.

I knew the general area, from Alice's usual chatter about the gated palaces and acres of honeyed, gold-spewing plains where the moneyed societal royalty of the metro Atlanta area resided, but in my impulsiveness, I had completely overlooked this small hitch in the plan. I snatched my cell from my purse, dialing 411.

At least it was a hitch easily fixed.

After a short call and a longer drive, my poor two-door Toyota rolled up in front of a veritable palace, complete with sprawling greens, which I'm sure were immaculate in the sunlight, a spewing fountain, and a brick cul-de-sac all its own. The car shuddered as I shut off the engine. I shuddered at the thought of getting out of the car.

I sat my purse in the floorboard, taking only my keys, and scooped the photographs out of the seat, glancing at them both again.

The boxed image, slightly yellowed and curling inward, filled my eyes with tears.

_Sometimes you're more right than you think you are. Courage. Edward. _

A few deep breaths were my only companion. It was time.

Heavy, cast iron met dark, paneled oak. I stood. I waited. I nearly hyperventilated.

The door slid open, shades of brilliancy pouring from the crack and illuminating me. A darkly lit shadow stood in the midst of the beams.

"Isabella?"

I shaded my eyes, sliding the photographs into my jacket pocket.

"Mrs. Cullen?"

"Bella, it's nearly 9:30, what are you doing here?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, slipping both hands into my jeans and fighting back tears.

"I – I just needed to talk to you. Alone. Please. It really is important."

Esme hesitated, her thick, dark auburn locks pulled into a high ponytail, the side of her mouth quirked upwards in thought. The sight was oddly childish, and I scuffed my foot.

"I won't stay long, I promise. I just need your advice. Please."

Her face softened. Relenting, she moved behind the heavy oak, pulling it backwards while I stepped into the warm hues of a brightly lit foyer. The locks clicked into place behind me.

"Why don't you join me in the living room? It's more comfortable there. Can I get you anything? Tea? Cocoa?"

"No, thank you." I trailed behind her petite form, its shapely curves and honeyed skin set off by the plain white tank, dark jeans, and thick green wrap pulled tight around her shoulders.

The entire house was immaculately decorated, elegant comfort that simply drew warmth from the burnished reds and casual creams and danced as a small flame in my chest. Esme curled up, feet wrapped beneath her, on an off-white love seat. Its plain form was simple and functional, something I could see in any other house, not just gracing the antique wood floors of this multilevel palace.

I seated myself beside her, pulling my coat from my arms and sitting it tentatively beside me. The cushions enveloped me, swarming me with a sense of security that belied the suspicion and absolute terror. Everything in the house was warm and inviting, a paradox to the cold demeanor Esme had presented at the engagement party.

Her hand fell on mine.

"Is everything okay, Bella?"

"I'm just worried … about –" I swallowed, "about Trevor."

Her brow creased. "Trevor? Did something happen dear?"

"No," I hedged, my gaze falling to my lap, fingers itching to pull the photographs from their cloth hiding place. "Not exactly."

"Bella," her hand pulled back.

"I was just wondering … if you had any pictures."

Esme sat straighter, worriedly brushing a stray hair behind her ear. Her gaze narrowed, eyes cold.

"Pictures? Bella, what are you talking about?"

My nails dug into my knees. "Oh, you know, like pictures of Trevor." Esme shifted slightly, wary. I wasn't going to get anything if I didn't go slowly, catch her off guard. "For the article, you know … the magazine?"

She relaxed slightly, eyes softening for a moment.

"I'm sure I could find something recent for you –"

"No," I jumped. I couldn't relax. My breathing fought against my erratic heartbeat. "I need … young pictures. You know …"

"I'm afraid I don't." Her tone was guarded, cold and even, a slap in the face. "I thought you said you needed advice."

I looked up. Her wall had reappeared. Courage became my only ally.

_Edward._

Every vertebra lined up, one on top of another, pulling me taller, ever stronger at the sound of his name. Her cold, harsh set lips and wide, terrified eyes could not daunt me.

"A picture that proves … he's yours."

Every inch of her body stiffened. Her eyes locked on mine.

"Isabella. You have no right to question my husband, myself, or my _son_, and I will not tolerate this rudeness in my house. I suggest you leave now and never come near this property again with these false accusations before your lies land you in more trouble than you can possibly imagine."

Esme and I stood nearly simultaneously, my hands reaching for my jacket. I turned to find a strange mix of fright and satisfaction playing in her eyes. She had assumed I was leaving.

Instead, I reached into the pocket, the trench coat slipping from my fingers and both photographs clutched to my chest. I softened at the fear in her eyes, pressing down against the anger at her lies as the alarm on her face grew.

"But they aren't lies, are they?"

"I don't know what you think you can accuse me of, but I'll have none of it in my –"

She froze as I drew the image away from my chest, her eyes lighting on the same details mine had studied and practically memorized so long ago.

He was fourteen years old and already in love – with his piano. Errant locks of deep auburn hair fell over eyes lost in perfect satisfaction. Fingers, caught in motion, gracefully picked out the chords for yet another sonata. It was the year before he had picked up his guitar, two weeks before Christmas when I was searching for things to fill up my little disposable camera in the woods outside of his house.

I had found Edward lost in his own world, bottom lip cinched lightly between his teeth, and I had snapped the picture I stared at for weeks afterwards, memorizing the way he looked when he was blissfully happy, just so I could know.

And now, she knew.

Esme sank to the couch, her hands reaching to steal the photograph from between my fingers. Reluctantly, I released my hold, tears welling in the corners of my eyes to match the ones streaming down her face.

"Trevor." It was a whisper, utterly broken. Caught and convicted.

Suddenly, I didn't want to be the one to convict her.

"Edward," I whispered back, my chest clinching tightly, one finger reaching out to trace the side of his lip. I pulled the other image from my lap, so much more recent, but still an exact copy of the other boy in the other world. Wordlessly, I sat it in front of her.

She hitched a breath, the tears flowing steadily now, silently cascading in tiny black trails down her cheeks. I waited. Waited for the tears to stop, for the heartache to bury itself further inside where she could take hold of it again. Soon, her eyes closed.

"Esme." She opened them, looked at me, hollow and cracked. She knew what my next question would be. "What happened?"

She looked away, fingers ghosting across the ancient picture from another life. A deep sigh lifted her chest.

"Trevor is … was … my son." She smiled ruefully, her eyes and fingers never leaving my memory. "Carlisle and I were so young. We married right out of high school, never questioned our future or where we would go. His only dream had ever been helping others, and I simply wanted to raise a family of my own. It was amazing just how well we never fell into any of the statistics.

"Carlisle worked his way through college and then medical school, becoming one of the youngest graduates Vanderbilt had ever seen. After college, I worked a steady job that paid just enough for our survival, but before we had been married four years, I got pregnant." Her hand slipped to rest on her stomach. "Everything was perfect. The baby was healthy, I was healthy, and we lived well for what we could afford. We weren't rich, but we were happy."

Her eyes dropped to her chest. I wanted to take her hand, to know her sorrow before I forced her to speak it.

"Then, in the middle of Trevor's freshman year in high school, Carlisle helped invent a new type of prosthetic limb joint, some kind of gel to make movement more natural or something. All I knew was that we went from comfortably happy to rich beyond our imaginings." Sadness lined the hesitant smile on her lips. "Trevor hated it. He hated the neighborhood, refused to go to the new private school … so his father did everything to try and make him happy – including buying that damn bike when he was only fifteen."

Her fists clinched around her knees, the photographs lying on her thighs. Hesitantly, I covered her hand with mine.

"It happened so fast. Ever since we moved, Trevor had become the rebellious type, but before, he had always been so obedient and loving. I never quite understood how angry he was at me … at his father. The night he ran away … I never saw it coming. And for Carlisle –" her voice broke. She breathed in, and turned to me.

"Carlisle was working a volunteer shift in the ER. After he received the money for the patent, he still wanted to work, doing what he did best. Anyhow, that night, he was just starting his shift when the medics brought in a motorcycle accident … single driver … John Doe … dead on arrival. He was the receiving doctor …"

My stomach clenched; my heart was heavy and numb. I was going to vomit. The thick, wet streams returned, cutting lines across both of our faces. Esme carried on.

"It took him hours to call. When he did … I didn't believe him. It wasn't until weeks later, when the coffin was in the ground, that I knew he was gone." She closed her eyes. "Our marriage was a wreck. I wouldn't leave our room, much less the house. I didn't eat. The only world I knew was sleep. As soon as he realized he wouldn't be able to reach me, Carlisle continued on, taking as many shifts in the hospital as he could."

Her eyes opened, fixated on mine.

"It was exactly a year later that Carlisle called me until I couldn't ignore him anymore. He urged me to the hospital with only one word – 'Trevor.' I didn't know what he meant until I saw him, lying on the hospital bed, broken and scarred … the mirror image of my baby." A hint of recovery broke through as the tears slowed. "That was when my husband told me – he had no idea who he was."

She swallowed, the words coming hesitantly. "He had no ID, no passport, there were no files on him. He was one of very few survivors of a horrible crash landing."

She stopped. Her eyes flickered to my face.

"And he had been diagnosed with severe retrograde amnesia."

I was probably staring at her in horror.

"So you just … took him?"

She grabbed my hand before I could stop her.

"No, Bella, of course not. At first, Carlisle and I volunteered to take him home through his recovery, in the hopes he would remember something … but Bella … he was my redemption. Caring for someone other than myself again … it was as though I had finally woken up." She pursed her lips lightly.

"We weren't allowed to jog his memory, because any harsh lurches into a recollection he didn't have could scar his brain permanently or send him into a seizure. So we took to simply calling him son. Then … well, it became too easy."

"We had no family to know the difference, and Trevor had never attended the private school in our area … so we adopted him. Secretly."

"You lied to him?"

Esme flinched away, defeated. "We never meant to hurt anyone. He had no family … and we had no son. I swear to you, if his memory had ever come back, I would have let him be … but I love him … as much as I loved Trevor." She smirked to herself. "Sometimes, I wonder if I don't love him more."

I stared at the intricate circles on the rug, head processing what my heart couldn't contain. The Cullens had taken him in, had cared for him as one of their own … but they had stolen him away. They had provided him with a false past not his own, to replace a life he would never remember … to replace _me_.

But they loved him, as fiercely as I had. And while the hurt would lie, ever present, it was the truth of that love which would not allow me to deny them forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Esme. I really am."

Her entire body trembled lightly, fixated on both of the pictures in her lap, until she reached down slowly and picked up the piece of my past. She turned to look at me. Understanding dawned.

"You … you knew him, didn't you? You know …"

"Edward," I finished, hands trembling, reaching for the photograph. The second time I had said his name in so many minutes. After nearly ten years of denying myself the privilege, the experience was cathartic. "He was my best friend. We grew up together, in Forks."

Esme nodded and then tossed her head against the couch, smiling ruefully. "I guess it's my turn now." She glanced over, enclosing my free hand. "I'm so sorry, Bella." Her words shook, spent.

She loved him. She loved him as well as I loved him, as well as any mother could love a son –even one that wasn't hers.

"It wasn't your fault, Esme. I can't blame you and your husband's kindness." I sprang from the couch, my palms suddenly sweaty. I scrubbed at the top of my thighs. "Fate's just a fickle bitch … but now," I sighed and wrapped my arms around my chest, "we can make it right again." I had almost made it to the clichéd nod of assurance when Esme's hand wrapped around my arm – hard.

"No."

The points of her perfectly manicured nails were piercing my skin. Ow.

"No what?" I pulled away slightly. She gripped tighter.

"You can't. You can't tell him."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to lie to him."

"Bella, didn't you hear what I said? He could have a seizure or go into shock. You have to –"

"I don't 'have' to do anything."

"So you'd risk losing him again?"

"You'd keep lying to him?"

"To save his life? Of course." Her eyes morphed into cold steel. "I won't lose my son."

"So I give him up? Again?"

"Is that too much to ask?"

I faltered. Was I being selfish? He was happy here, in this world. Their Trevor might not have been, but, before I came along, this Trevor was living and loving, working, making music – he was thriving. Who was I to come in and destroy a dream so tentatively built?

But then … who was I to decide what he should or shouldn't know? Who was I to lie?

"Yes." A firm, shaken whisper, resolute, was my offer. "I won't lie to him, Mrs. Cullen. Not for you, or your husband, or myself." Cold fear replaced the ferocity in her gaze. The grip on my arm loosened. "But for Edward –" I faltered. _I would do anything._ I swallowed thickly. "I won't tell him … yet."

Esme released my arm, raking fingers through loose bits of her hair.

"Thank you."

I pulled my coat into my arms. I needed to clarify.

"But I won't keep the truth from him, or anyone else, either."

Salt liquid lined her eyes. "I know."

"I'm sorry. Good night."

My steps echoed in the expansive house. The door shut.

No one followed.


	13. Ch Twelve:Confessions II:A Beautiful Lie

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "A Beautiful Lie" as performed by 30 Seconds to Mars, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **Before I can do anything else, I must thank the most wonderful beta-mom, Miss **clarabella75 **for her amazing work and the time she puts into reading this and encouraging me. Also, second to none, is my amazing, beautiful, wondrous ficwife and most awesome friend/pre-reader/person, **puppymama0909**. She is awesome, her latest work is some loveliness that got me all hot and bothered, so if that's your thing, check out **Isolation**_! _http: /www . fanfiction . net/s/6758827/1/

Also, a HUGE thank you to all of my reviewers! I want to name you all and thank you one by one, because you are what make this story live! Thank you!

AAANNNDD! This lovely little story has been nominated for an **award**! (I know, right?) Thanks to one of my amazing readers, we've been nominated for **Best Unresolved Sexual Tension** in the** Inspired Fanfic Awards**! http:/ inspiredfanficawards . blogspot . com/p/first-round-voting . html If you feel that we're so deserving, I would be THRILLED if you could hop on over and cast your vote for us, so we can make it past first round voting! And if copy/pasting the above doesn't work, I'm putting a link on my profile, along with some more fun Polyvores for the dinner at the Cullen's. :) Feel free to prowl around and get your visual imaginations a rollin'!

And last - stay tuned for a teensy tiny, very important ending author's note.

So settle in, grab your cup of (insert warm beverage here), and after reading this MONSTER of an author's note, enjoy this MONSTER of a chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve:  
Confessions, Part Two:  
A Beautiful Lie**

_Everyone's looking at me  
I'm running around in circles  
A quiet desperation's building higher …  
I've got to remember this is just a game_

"A Beautiful Lie" – 30 Seconds to Mars

x0x0x0x0x0x

Twenty-two degrees fahrenheit was too fucking cold.

The keys fumbled in my grasp, Alice's gym card fluttering around on its lanyard in the arctic wind.

I thought I had moved to the _South_, for God's sake.

"Shit!" My keys hit cement. And, at five thirty in the morning, it was fucking dark. Flopping around for a few more moments, I felt like a fish out of water.

A frozen fish.

I finally snagged them and forced my way into my car. The beginnings of my defroster hit the windshield just as I hit the gas.

After a long night of restless insomnia, I had finally given myself over to fate and stuck a hand into Alice's room, praying I would find her gym card, and not a pair of undies, hanging on her doorknob.

For once, I had been rewarded for my efforts.

I couldn't say as much for my bravery last night. Had my trip to the Cullens' been a victory or a defeat? Since the moment I had stepped inside my apartment after eleven the evening before, skating past a silent Alice and Jasper, snoring lightly on the couch, I had been running the questions over in my head, unable to find a convincing answer.

After a scalding hot shower around midnight, ceaseless pacing between one and two, and lying in bed staring at the ceiling till five, the questions were on an endless repeat cycle, ringing in my ears.

Should I tell him? Should I lie? When would I see him again? What would I do when I saw him again? Had the Cullens been wrong to take him in? Would I be wrong to break his dream?

The only way to clear my head would be to surround it with warm, chlorinated wetness.

Besides, I couldn't say a small, hesitant spark from our last meeting at the private club didn't linger in my memory, generating hope.

A hope which turned out to be unfounded. The entire pool was empty, my footsteps echoing on the cement in the high-ceilinged room.

By positioning myself on the starting block and launching a full three feet into my lane, I proved my theory right. The water molded to my body, rolling around my arms, enfolding me with silence and clearing my mind.

I controlled my stroke, and my irrepressible ocean of fear slipped silently away.

Nearly an hour later, the heat and burn of a strenuous swim left the tense, weary muscles in my neck, arms, shoulders, and back loose and free. My mind was calm, silent, soothed by the lap of the water against the cool, blue ceramic and gray concrete.

As nine am rolled around, I found myself sitting inside of Urban Grind, a white chocolate raspberry mocha settled lazily in my lap, feet curled underneath me, while I stared off into a limitless horizon, a brilliant sun drifting upwards from the ground.

I missed him.

My heart ached, knowing that every moment of every day, he was here, close enough I could reach out, wrap my arms around him, feel his skin moving under mine, hear the breath in his chest. But I was banned, forbidden to be a part of his existence.

I couldn't know whether I would ever have my friend back again. The question haunted me – did I even have the right to try?

I jumped, nearly spilling my coffee, when Fergie's "Glamorous" blared from the small cell buried in my pocket.

"Hey Alice."

"_Bella? Are you okay? Where are you?"_

Alice. Always concerned. I couldn't help but smile.

"I'm fine Alice. Just having a cup of coffee right now. I needed a swim, so I stole your club card again this morning."

"_Oh. Okay, well, Jasper and I are making pancakes and eggs if you want to come home. Emmett's already made his way in, sniffing around like a rabid golden retriever."_

"I'll be home soon enough," I laughed. The image of a begging Emmett was enough to belay the ironies of a rabid golden retriever. "Tell the dog not to devour all of the pancakes, either."

"_You can't keep me away from them for long!" _Emmett's voice rang out from behind my roommate. Alice laughed.

"_Jasper's holding him back for as long as he can, Bella, but I'd recommending coming home soon if you plan on sharing in any of the spoils._"

"Just tell Emmett I'll lower his curfew and take away his pain meds if he doesn't leave a few for me."

Alice cackled on the other end. _"That's perfect. Oh, also, I almost forgot. The reason I called – Esme called this morning and invited us to dinner tonight. All of us. And she specifically requested you be there, so really, you can't back out. You're coming."_

I choked without even taking a sip of my coffee. "What?"

"_You heard me, Swan. You're coming."_

I slouched in my seat, nearly dumping my mocha. I had started this mess. There was no way I was getting out of it again.

"Fine. But I'm digging through your closet when I get home."

"_Wow. You're brave. Good lu_ –_" _the end of her word turned into squeals of laughter. Either Emmet or Jasper had finally gotten to her. I chuckled a bit. Jasper's voice lit up the other end of the phone.

"_Bella, Alice is slightly incapacitated at the moment, she will see you when you decide to come home and grace the rest of us with your beautiful presence."_

"Alright, alright Jasper, just don't torture her too long."

"_I'll do my best, but Emmett seems to be holding her for ransom."_

I laughed outright this time. "Maybe I won't rush so much then." Jasper laughed at me. "See you soon."

"_Bye Bella."_

Alice's indignant noises echoed in the background as I slid my phone shut.

I would be at the Cullens tonight. For a dinner party. Fuck me.

I didn't even have to ask about the guest list. I was specifically requested by Esme.

Something was going down tonight.

The last bits of mocha slid down my throat, the cup making a satisfying thud against the side of the waste bin. I drove home leisurely, enjoying the overworked heater as it blew dry my damp hair.

Squeals of laughter and the sounds of silverware on plates drifted to me from the front door. I smiled, kicked off my sneakers, not bothering to remove my sweats or hoodie, and lazily drifted into the kitchen, snatching a piece of bacon from its path down Emmett's throat.

"Hey!" He reached around to swipe at me, but I slid backwards on the tile, shoving the fried pork in my mouth. Swallowing, I stuck my tongue out ungraciously. Emmett was suppressing chuckles. "Gross, Bells."

Alice was staring at me, mid-chew, in absolute horror.

"What?"

Jasper cocked an eyebrow, amused. Emmett burst into laughter.

"Bella," Alice swallowed, nose wrinkling, "Emmett _spit_ on all of his food thirty seconds ago – to keep Jasper off of it."

Immediately, my stomach rolled. I gagged, punching Emmett in the shoulder and then running to the sink.

"Emmett! What the fuck!" I gurgled and spit water.

Emmett was in tears. Jasper would have been too, if not for Alice's glares and sympathetic glances towards me. As it was, he was barely staying on his seat.

"There are two pancakes in the microwave I managed to rescue for you, if you're hungry," my roommate offered. Something hit the table – hard.

"Dude, Ali, I thought you said we were out!" Emmett actually managed to sound indignant.

"Yeah, well, I had to tell you two garbage dispensers something," Alice rolled her eyes.

Scraping at my tongue with my nails, I gargled with water one last time. I wished I could take a razor blade to the offended appendage. Sadly, my toothbrush would have to do.

I glanced longingly at the microwave, visions of syrup-drenched, buttermilk fluff and thick, salted bacon dancing through my head. My stomach flip-flopped again. Bile rose into my throat.

I had an idea.

"No, thanks Alice, I'm good," I grumbled from behind my hand, heading towards the stairs. Emmett perked up, but as I passed by the microwave, I popped open the door, took out both pancakes, and licked them slowly, first up one side, and then up the other.

Emmett's mouth dropped open.

I continued to smile, snorting back my laughter and drawing a huge wad of spit through my nose, which then landed directly onto the fluffy, golden-brown surface. I pressed the pancakes together and slid them back onto the plate in the microwave.

Alice was howling. Jasper was snorting. Emmett was wailing.

"But – but – the pancakes!"

I snickered as I passed his chair.

"You're more than welcome to them, Em."

My smirk didn't die, and my friends' uproars followed me out of the kitchen and up the stairs, including Emmett's bellowing protestations.

"There're starving kids in Nigeria, you know!"

My smile remained until my bedroom door shut solidly behind me. My eyes were hazy and weak; my mind swam, exhausted. I sank down onto the bed as the first few raindrops hit my window, pinging against the glass.

Gradually, the storm rolled forward, crashing thunder shaking the panes of glass. Wet, think drops beat a steady rhythm, peaceful and narcotic, their sound echoing behind my closed eyelids and inside of my muddled mind, tiny drum beats mimicking the pound of my heart. It was pure, cadenced peace, and I dozed, the questions swimming inside of me retreated but did not surrender.

_Snow, soft and fair, drifted around me, layering the thick bronzed leaves of the maples and oaks with puffy clouds of warmth. I ran my hand over a branch, gathering the thick white stuff in my palm. Its heat radiated up my arm. _

_High laughter broke into my tiny space of woods. My head swiveled toward the sound. _

_There … over there it was spring. White hedged against deep green, a line in the proverbial grass. Immediately, I hovered directly in front of the line. I stepped forward – only to end up in exactly the same place I had been before. My hand stretched out, tentatively reaching and then landing with a thud, only partially extended. _

_I was trapped. More laughter rang out, deeper this time. _

_Beautiful brown-bronze hair sat atop the boy, cross-legged in the grass, not fifteen feet away from me. Giggles erupted, and a swirl of chocolate brown waves bowed over into his lap, pulling away seconds later. _

"_No, I meant 'here'!" The image was becoming clearer with each passing second. I pressed my hand against the barrier, cool and unrepentant, trapping me while everything I knew drew me towards the couple._

"_What, here?" The boy leaned forward, placing a small, close-lipped peck on the girl's nose. She giggled and sighed, mock exasperated. This time, I caught the faint red traces lining her pale cheeks._

"_Really?" Her gaze fell to her lap. "Come on, I know you're older than me, but you _have_ to know where first kisses go." She looked up shyly from under her lids. "I've seen you kiss Brittney there." _

"_Really?" The boy's face dropped._

_I wanted to frown, to tell the girl that maybe the boy didn't _want_ to kiss her instead of Brittney, but the drifting smell of ash and charred wood caught my attention. I glanced behind me. Red flames licked at the trees, rushing forward, catching me in a narrowly thinning semi-circle. _

_Panic shot through me. I turned back and pounded my fist once on the barrier, before I froze. The thick, heavy red flames surrounded the small couple, billowing waves of acrid smoke drifting in the air, the sunlight filtering in glimmering shafts over their forms. I wanted to yell, but I could only cough and shudder from the heat of the flames. I could still hear their voices, as clear as a bright, sunlit, cloudless day. _

_The girl was nodding. _

"_I'm sorry I asked, I just – you're just my best friend. And I want you to be my first … so that if I screw it up, you won't … you know – laugh."_

_He muttered, words that sounded like a bee hive in my ear. I pulled back, my hands flying to cover them and drown out the noise which muddled with the crackle of the fire. The flames were closing in on each side, heat blistering against the barrier as it began to bubble. I reached out again, desperate to attract their attention. This time, my hand slid through the scalding liquid, which continued to bubble around the extended limb. _

_I stood fixated. _

_Time began to fall forward, a clock, minutes slipping like hours, shifting like honey sliding from a jar. The boy smiled, reaching forward, placing one hand against the girl's cheek. He drew her to him, meeting her round, cherubic face halfway. Chocolate curls spilled forward, hiding her profile, and then, hiding his, as their lips met gently, cautiously. _

_Sick, snapping twists writhed in my gut. The boy filtered through, like water poured on oil paints; his image blurred and ran, sliding into the grass. The girl leaned back, and then looked at me. She stood. Her eyes were worn and red, weak and tired, hollow and angry. She walked towards me, slowly, mouthing words I couldn't understand. _

_Shades of fear raced up my spine; I lurched backwards and halted. My arm was stuck where it had slid through. The girl was advancing on me now, feral, hungry, and angry. Her lips wrapped around words, swallowing them whole, chills rising along my arms and spiking across the base of my neck._

_I tried to scream, but I was strangled by my own misery. _

_She halted. She pointed. _

"_You." The world exploded into icicles behind her, roaring as the icy shards flew into my eyes. _

A swift crack of thunder, and I snapped straight up on the mattress, my arms involuntarily wrapping around my torso, fingers curling around my arms. Blurry eyes blinked, forcing focus. I shivered delicately.

Long fingers of darkness had wrapped around my room, the sheer red curtains fluttering gently in the air from the heater. The air was grey and dull, thin in its warmth. My hair hung limp, shading my vision, tiny tendrils of sweat lining my forehead and scalp.

Had I been dreaming?

I couldn't remember. Vaguely, I attempted to shake off the cloud of sleep. My head throbbed behind my temples, the pain stretching through the top of my head, into my neck, and lingering in my shoulders.

Fuck. Not sleeping hurt.

Three quick raps on my door sent a splinter of throbbing pain across my forehead.

"Yeah?"

The door creaked lightly on its hinges, followed by Alice's head.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

I nodded, running a hand down my parched throat. My stomach chose that moment to growl ungracefully.

"Just dry as the Sahara," I frowned, "and obviously hungry as those Nigerian kids, too."

"There's some left over Thai, if you want. But," she frowned, "you probably shouldn't eat too much. It's already almost five. We need to leave for the Cullens' in an hour or so."

"What?" I jumped in surprise, carefully standing from the bed. "Shit, Alice, I don't even have anything to wear!"

The pixie clicked her tongue once. "And that is why you love me." Softly padding into the room in her bathrobe, she held up a flowing, red, chiffon dress. Strung over the hanger was a curved gold clutch, softly muted but still glowing in the fading light. Rain pounded against the window outside. I sank back onto the bed.

"Thanks, Alice. It's great." Leave it to my semi-clairvoyant roommate to pick out something casually sexy for the night I would face _him_.

"You're welcome. Just be sure to match accessories with the clutch, and you can't go wrong." She smiled. "Jasper will be here to pick us up in about forty-five minutes. I'll be downstairs if you need anything, okay?"

"Sure. Thank you."

Alice hung the dress on my closet door and turned to study me.

"Are you okay, Bella? Really?"

I hesitated, mouth cracked open. _No._ How could I be? The words were slipping off of my tongue. _Because she lied. They lied. We've all lied, without even knowing. And he's still lost._ _And now, tonight, I have to see him, and somehow keep lying._

Instead, the excuses slid from my usual fortress.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just … didn't sleep well, that's all." I smiled. Fake. "Promise."

Alice nodded, eyes cut slightly. She didn't believe me, and after the past few months, I didn't blame her.

"Okay. Let me know if you need help with the dress."

After Alice had vacated the upstairs, I slipped under the soothing heat of a warm shower. The pellets beat upon my back, joining the cacophony of raindrops hitting against the ceiling, and numbing my mind.

My hair had frizzed into a mess of waves after its air drying from the pool, so I pulled it into a simple French twist, taming the few pieces that dangled around my ears into loose curls, before slipping into the dress and finding myself back on the bed, black box in my hands.

I slid the top open easily, lifting the photographs from its interior, until I came to the bottom of the box. A jewelry box that would fit easily in the palm of my hand lay cradled in its dark interior. I flipped the lid open, unable to pull the box from its resting place. A long, gold chain glimmered back at me, the circular locket with a heart-shaped diamond inset dangling from the middle of its thin form.

"_It's for you, Izzy." _

_Elizabeth Mason's gentle voice urged me to take the chain in my hands. Reverently, I lifted it from the box, staring at the glinting surface. _

"_Do you want to put it on?"His voice was so close behind me, brushing against the skin of my ear, stirring the hair tucked behind it. I nodded, fixated on the magnificent Christmas gift. _

"_Please?" _

_Edward chuckled behind me, reaching around to remove the necklace from my fingers and strung it quickly around my neck, hooking the clasp with his lithe fingers. My head began to turn, to thank his parents once again for the wonderful gift, when a soft pressure against the back of my neck surprised me. The skin there began to burn. I dropped my eyes back to the locket, wrapping one fist around the charm and rubbing it with my thumb. His chin sank onto the top of my head._

"_Merry Christmas, Izzy-bug." _

The last Christmas we had spent together.

"Bella!" Alice's voice echoed through my closed door. Quickly, I clasped the locket around my neck, shoving the pictures back into the box.

"Coming!" The hoop earrings slid quickly through my ears, and, wrapping myself in my black trench, I grabbed the clutch and hurried down the stairs. Well … hurried is probably a relative term. The accomplishment was me not _falling_ down the stairs.

Alice grinned at me, wrapped completely in a white, ankle-length, fur-lined coat, her dark hair pulled high on her head in a chic, fifties' up-do.

"Yes?" She dragged a hand down her body.

"How very Hepburn of you," I grinned back, immediately wrapping a fist around the locket. I didn't want to reveal its origination, and yet I couldn't bring myself to not wear it … just in case.

"Thank you, dahling." Opening the door, Alice waved a hand. "Shall we?"

I rolled my eyes, walking past her and down the porch stairs to Jasper's waiting car. Alice began spewing expletives behind me.

"Shit! Fuck! My toes are fucking ice pops! Why the fuck is it so cold out here?"

I could only laugh as I raced to the car, my own calves and toes freezing off in the icy October air. Cripes … it _really_ needed to get warmer. Heat erupted from the interior as soon as I threw open the car door, flooding into my coat and restoring hints of circulation in my toes.

Jasper snickered lightly, reaching over to rub at Alice's arms after she leapt into the car, still cursing.

"Damn it! I thought I was in Georgia!"

"You are, Ali." Jasper glanced back at me, raising an eyebrow. I nodded and he turned back to Alice. "But you do know it's winter, right?"

"Not until December twenty-first, it's not. Stupid fucking weather." Alice scowled and slipped her shoes off, tucking her legs under her coat. Jasper chuckled again, rubbed a hand over the buried leg, and pulled from the driveway.

Outside of my window, the world became a blur of heavy, grey clouds, hanging low and layered against a rapidly darkening sky. We had been given a brief bit of downtime from the rain, but it didn't seem like our lucky streak was going to last much longer.

I was grasping at every bit of luck I had. Suddenly, I frowned, remembering one living bit of luck I had forgotten.

"Hey, Alice? Where's Emmett?"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "He left while you were asleep. I think he said he was going out with some friends. Why?"

"I thought we were all invited to this dinner?"

"No, when I said 'all,' I meant you, Jasper, and me. At least that was what Esme told me."

"Oh."

The rest of the trip was silent. I watched Jasper's hand linger, first twisted between Alice's tiny fingers, then moving to stretch behind her neck and grasp at tendrils of loose hair, before finally resting buried at the top of her thigh, underneath the coat.

God, I missed human contact.

The car circled onto the long, brick driveway, coming to a halt just past the door, behind a large, white Audi. It was haunting. I had been here not twenty-four hours ago, before my world had been flipped completely on its head.

Shakily, I climbed from the car and marched towards the house, fear finally setting in at the sight of the paneled, three-story mansion. I moved to walk beside Alice, slipping my arm through hers and clutching tightly.

Literal dragging was the only way I was going to make it into that house.

After waiting for a few moments on the porch, where it took everything in me not to simply dash for the bushes and claim impulsive Turrets later, the heavy oak door pulled open, revealing Carlisle Cullen and the same warm interior I had encountered the day before.

Smiling, he greeted the three of us, eying me warily, and invited us inside. I trailed behind Alice, fixated on my feet, completely unaware of where we were headed.

My only goal was to make it through the night without throwing up. So far, my chances were feeling pretty bleak.

"Bella," my roommate hissed in my ear. I halted instantly, realizing that my companions had stopped while I had continued my trail. Red heat filtered in behind the skin of my cheeks and neck. At least I complimented my dress.

"Marilyn, Randall, I haven't seen you in weeks." Alice detached from my arm, moving towards the couple who, as I looked up from my feet, were smiling with guile at their son and his girlfriend. I got the feeling there was a reason she hadn't seen them in weeks. Regardless, Alice had always been able to play up her societal roles.

I, on the other hand, was frozen in place, abandoned by both my best friend and her date, standing silent in the doorway, until a soft hand wrapped around my arm. I flinched lightly.

Esme smiled and leaned in to hug me, whispering gently in my ear.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I had no right to behave the way I did the other night." She leaned back, pressing a glass of champagne into my hand. I glanced at it and back to her, as she continued. "You're very brave for doing what you did, Isabella. Thank you, for respecting our wishes. It was never something we could force you into doing, so … thank you."

I smiled hesitantly, still unsure. "It still doesn't mean I'll lie."

Esme's eyes dropped, her smile sad. "I know. But … if he asks? Please tell him – how much his father and I love him … have always loved him. And that we never meant any harm."

I nodded again, this time silently.

A tall, thin, lithe form slipped into the room, hovering in my peripherals. I froze. Esme stiffened lightly before breathing in and relaxing. Squeezing my arm once, she stepped away, leaving me to my own devices. I sucked in a huge breath – and slunk to the nearest doorway, leaning against the wall while chomping at the bit.

He slid over to Alice, dark wash jeans slung low on his hips. His dark-grey button-up was wrinkled, a sharp contrast to the black dress jacket hanging over his broad shoulders, one slightly more sloped than the other. His auburn brown hair was darker than usual; I couldn't decide if the color spawned from dampness or just the ambiance of the wide sitting room.

His fingers spread through it, obviously trying to force the unruly tendrils into place, but the fight was futile, and he dropped his hand to the side, wiping his palm lightly on the broad side of his thigh.

Yep … damp.

Butterfly wings fluttered against my spine.

His fingers flexed as they hung by his side, rolling into and out of his palm, an unconscious flicker of Edward I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed before.

But really, when I fought to remember, I began to wonder if I _had _noticed. I wouldn't put it past my constantly fucked-with mind to completely disregard anything obvious.

I knew then and there, I couldn't speak to him, or I would spill everything, throw my arms around his neck and beg for him to believe me. Honestly, even I didn't think he would.

The absolute implausibility of the situation was the _only_ reason I had agreed to keep Esme and Carlisle's secret … he was Edward in body, Trevor in mind. I almost laughed outright.

Treward he truly had become.

His eyes still hadn't found mine, but I was enjoying being utterly fixated on his every move more than I'd care to admit.

"Bells?" A much too familiar voice shot through my reverie. "What are you doing here?"

_What – ? _

_Shit. Shit! Fucking shit!_

Emmett.

I had completely forgotten about him.

I was turning on the ball of my foot, ready to sweep him from the sitting room, when I saw his eyes shift and widen.

"What … the hell? Who – the fuck – holy shit, Bells – "

My stiletto landed directly in the middle of his foot, sliding under the tongue of his shoe and earning me a hiss of pain, while also effectively cutting off Emmett's breathing supply and thoughtless, potentially earth shattering words.

"Shit-fuck-hell! Damn it, woman! That hurts!" Em braced himself against the wall. I shoved at his arm, forcing him to limp down the hall until we found a small, abandoned room about a yard down to the left.

"I'm sorry, Em," I sighed, "I couldn't risk it."

"Risk _what_?" he hissed, untying his shoe and yanking it and his sock off at once. An angry red-purple mark was darkening and swelling, almost dead center on the top of his foot. He glanced up at me, eyebrow raised, angry and confused. "What in the hell is going on here?"

I looked away – the ceiling, the wall, the intricate Persian rug … _anything_ was more appealing than answering Emmett's question. He sighed, replaced his sock and shoe, and looked down at me, less ire and more inquiry.

"Look, I get invited here, to a private dinner, and the last time I checked, private meant less than three people, but instead some blonde pretty boy lets me in the door and I walk in, only to find you and a whole shit load of other people I don't know. And who are you staring at? Some prick, who is a replica of Ed –" he stumbled, swallowing hard, "– of my _fucking_ best friend, who fucking _died_ a whole shit ton of years ago –"

"Nine years," I murmured, eyes on the floor. Emmett carried on.

"– and he is fucking standing _right _there, and then _you _turn around and beat the hell out of my foot, and not in a good way, and then drag me away to some fuck –"

"It _is_ Edward."

It was so soft, I could barely here my own voice, but Emmett halted. His hand was firm on my shoulder. I looked up at him. For the first time since the funeral, Emmett wasn't smiling.

"Bella … he's dead."

"No, Emmett … he's alive."

I watched as Emmett searched my face. "That doesn't make any fucking sense."

"I know," I sighed again, pushing strands of hair out of my eyes, "but it's true. Look, I'll explain it later, I promise, but for now, I just need you to understand." My eyes flickered across his face. Shit … time to bring Emmett in on the mind fuckery. "He doesn't know."

"What? The fuck, Bells, what do you mean he doesn't know?"

"He doesn't know who he is –"

"Then how the fuck do _you_ know?"

"Emmett! Shut up!" I growled. He flinched into silence. "Look, I can't explain it to you now, I promise I will, but you've _got_ to trust me. His name is Trevor Cullen, and he's been here for nine years, living this life, being this person. We cannot, under _any_ circumstances, flat out tell him who he really is, got it?"

Emmett studied me, glancing between me and the door repeatedly. "So, what … it's like some kind of memory thing?"

"Amnesia, Emmett." I grabbed his arm. "Can you do it?"

"Do what?" he finally focused solely on me. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll my eyes.

"Keep your thoughts to yourself and your big ass mouth clamped _shut_."

"Oh, please, Bells, I was made for this shit."

I laughed.

Tears rolled down my cheeks, the noise building, mingling with hiccups, strains of madness clearly evident. Oh hell … this night was _not _going to end well.

"Yeah, as well as you kept quiet about Ben "Gaysian" Cheney and Greg "Cornerback" Lovell's break out love fest in high school?"

Emmett scowled. I slapped a hand over my mouth, breathing rapidly through my nose to halt the rising laughter. I was hyperventilating – hysterically.

"Bella?" Emmett wrapped a hand around my wrist. "Bells, it's okay … calm down."

I nearly collapsed into tears. Christ. Emmett was the one who had an information overload, and I was the one suffering a mental breakdown.

_Pull it together, Swan!_

Counting to ten, I pulled my hand away from my mouth, breathing normally … well, kind of. Emmett was staring at me. I nodded a few times.

"Okay," I hauled in a deep breath, "mouth shut, got it?"

"Honestly Bells? I'm more worried about you than me."

I punched him in the shoulder.

We walked back towards the dining room, me halting in the doorway yet again, while Emmett glided past, winking and sliding effortlessly into the small crowd, folding himself into their conversation. I watched as Jasper shook his hand, Alice smoothly covered her shock with graceful reception, and Esme introduced him to Trevor.

There was no incident, no hesitation, nothing to disclose the shared connection, the shock, awe, and surprise. His hand shook a few times, subtle body language for those who knew him best, but otherwise, Emmett was flawless. I envied his ease.

Me, on the other hand? I hung against the railing, the ultimate wallflower, becoming one with the sand-colored paint. I watched, worse than the proverbial fly-on-the-wall, as my best friend, reborn, walked from person to person, caught up in conversation. The tiniest gesture made my skin crawl; the warm, broad tenor of his laugh made my knees weak.

And every time he stepped to Rosalie, arm hovering next to hers, whispering in her ear, I felt my gag reflex begin to work overtime.

I missed him.

He wasn't mine.

Glancing away, I pulled my locket between my thumb and forefinger, rubbing small circles around its back, fixated on nothing but the memory.

"It's beautiful."

The voice materialized beside me, and I swung my head left at the sudden sound, effectively smacking the side of my face into the wall.

"Shit!" I hissed, pressing a hand against the sting. Perfect. One more bruise for my growing collection. I wondered if it would match the small scar from pool day.

"Bella!" Amusement and concern mingled in Treward's voice. His hand found mine, fingers brushed lightly against my temple. Tinges of fire licked across my knuckles while my scalp prickled.

"I'm okay, I'm good," I muttered, stepping back. He smiled, brushing a hand through his hair and shoving the other in his pocket.

"I was talking about the necklace, by the way. Is it a locket?"

Instinctively, I cradled the charm, glancing at its polished surface.

"Yeah, it is. Thanks."

"Whoever picked it out has great taste."

I smirked. _I always thought you did, too_.

His hand brushed mine, slipping the charm from my palm. His head dipped close, inspecting it, drawing me closer.

I froze.

His breath brushed across the side of my neck, stirring bits of stray hair, swirling against my collarbone.

"Of course, the owner certainly matches the jewelry."

I shivered.

He looked up at me, green-brown eyes flickering over my face. The pale scar across his nose glinted imperceptibly in the incandescent lights; my hand slipped halfway up my side, thumb twitching to run itself across the raised surface.

Edward leaned back, slipped a hand in his pocket, and placed the other in the air between us.

"Dinner time," he breathed, one side of his slightly off-kilter lips lifting in an inviting grin. "Shall we?"

My stomach lurched forward, exploding in a mass of rolling butterflies, lifting me into space. He was _asking_ me to touch him. My God.

I managed to offer a weak grin of my own and noiselessly slid my hand into his.

Past melded with present; pieces of my missing self falling into place. It was as though, with the first touch of knowledge, a sigh of relief lifted me higher, pulling me home. His fingers closed tenderly around mine. This was _right_.

This was oh, so very wrong.

Treward turned me and placed my arm through the crook of his elbow, gliding the both of us towards the doorway on the other side of the room, which was already vacant. I glanced around, confused, and he laughed.

My feet almost gave out under me.

"They're in the dining room, Bella," he murmured, pulling me through the doorway and gesturing towards the large, round table which was set for exactly ten people, who were filtering in and taking their seats. Treward led me around the room, towards the right side of the table where Emmett was hovering over a seat, surreptitiously talking to Jasper and sneaking glances at Rosalie from the corner of his eye.

Every bit of restraint I had went into _not_ cracking him in the jaw.

A small bell chimed somewhere behind me, and Treward released my arm, still smiling kindly at me, his bright green eyes focused on mine. I felt colder, somehow, more distant from reality at the lack of contact. Simultaneously, Jasper slid both mine and Alice's chairs out from underneath the table, and then deposited himself beside his girlfriend, who reached under the table cloth to grasp my hand.

Alice was staring at me and behind me quizzically. She wanted to know about Emmett. Fuck. That was _not_ a story I wanted to get into right now. Instead, I merely feigned innocence and shrugged my shoulders. Yeah, I was going to pay for that later.

Another light chime signaled the beginning of the meal, and I pulled the napkin from my plate, staring at the hordes of silverware. What was with the damn bells, anyway?

A loud clash of conversations thrummed around me; friends were seated with friends, a seemingly straightforward dinner party for companionship and celebration to everyone, except me. I remained silent, eyes fixated on my meal, my water, my wine, unable to glance around for the sake of pure, petrifying fear.

I could feel eyes on me, every now and again, as the courses slid by, each thicker, heartier, and more elegant than the last. After two rounds of hors d'ouerves, a thick potato soup, salad, garlic roasted wild rice, green beans amandine, honey roasted carrots, lemon butter broccoli, roasted new potatoes, creamed spinach, roasted duck with plum sauce, and a large slice of caramel pecan chocolate cake, I wasn't sure I could make it from the table, much less out of the house.

The conversations had dropped to a low hum, like bees in a hive, each occupied with their own gossip and invention. I had nearly slipped into a food coma, allowing the soft, soothing sounds to lull me defenseless.

My attention drifted – my eyes left my bubble.

I was struck by the unwavering, unnerving green-gold puddles. They watched me, silent, unabashed, searching my face, and, at times, lingering on places I couldn't define. I wanted to mouth my questions, ask why he was staring, begin to pick away at the brain I could never touch, but instead, I sat, frozen, Bambi's mother in the path of an on-coming eighteen-wheeler.

He raised an eyebrow, the left one, the same one marred by the scars of his past. The left side of his mouth lifted up, accenting the off-centeredness of his profile. I wanted to throw my arms around him right then and there.

The sharp, vibrant resonance of silverware on glass cut through my trance.

Rosalie stood from the table, her long, supple form effortlessly punctuated by a domineering black dress which hugged her tight curves and pulled the honey from her peach skin. Her eyes landed on me, hints of a smirk pulling at the corner of her flawless, rose red lips.

"Thank you all, for being here." She moved from me, glancing around at each member of the table. "And a very special thanks to Esme for her assistance, since there was no other way to bring you all together willingly." Her round-robin of the table ended on Emmett. The mask faltered.

Her eyes softened imperceptibly, features almost … gracious, caring.

_What_ … _?_

"As everyone here knows, in one week, the Cullens and the Hales will join together in marriage, forever united by bonds that are, hopefully, inseparable by man." She lithely plucked her wine glass from the table. "So, I'd like to propose a toast." Holding her glass high, she paused as the rest of us followed suit.

"To you, father, and to you, mother – to the perfect lie you have created for everyone else to believe in."

You could have heard a pin drop. Thunder cracked. The chandelier shook. The storm was building, black and grey streaked against the sky. Apprehension filled the room, wrapping tender claws around each member of the table. The tension was thick and palpable, full emotion on display across each and every face.

Anger and awe were a perfect back drop to Trevor's clenched jaw; Esme and Carlisle shared silent confusion; Randall Hale's entire body stiffened, eyes working over his daughter; Marilyn remained completely blank. Jasper had fixed his sister with an amused stare, Alice kept glancing around the table, sharp eyes alert; Emmett was confused as hell.

"Trevor," Rosalie adjusted herself, placing a hand against his cheek. "I know you care for me, but you don't love me. Not the way I deserve. And you know?" She smiled, sad and perfect. "I don't truly love you either. Not the way _you_ deserve." She reached around to slide the giant diamond off of her finger. "I'm not going to marry you … not for them."

Trevor stopped her. "Keep it. Please." Rose nodded.

"Jasper, thank you … for helping me to see." The corner of Jasper's lips twitched, amusement growing. "Carlisle and Esme," Rose faltered, turning to the couple, "I'm so sorry. You have both taken me in, treating me as a daughter, trusting in me, trusting in us, when we have only lied. I hope you can forgive me."

Esme reached out a hand instinctively before pulling it back. Thick, wet puddles glistened in the corners of her eyes.

"Father," Rose paused, "and mother. I will _not_ be your puppet. I am no one's play toy." She gestured towards the Cullens. "Their lives … they aren't a part of your game. And now … neither am I." Glancing at Trevor, she jerked the ring off of her finger. Her eyes flitted to Emmett's; tears mingled with kohl black liner, threatening to cascade across pale pink cheeks. "I'm done."

Her heels cracked across the wood. The ring landed in Marilyn Hale's wineglass.

A flourish of fresh spring flowers lingered.

* * *

Okay, my lovely ladies and gents, this is just a little notice to all that, while I want this story and it's characters to consume my entire mental life, for the next few weeks, alas, it cannot. As I am steadily nearing midterms, papers, and the due date to the **FicAwesome Gift Exchange** (which is going to be amazing, check it out on the **Fanfic Aholics Anon **page on Facebook), it may be more than the usual time between updates. Fortunately, I've loaded this chapter with a good bit of love, so I hope you can forgive the slight delay! I love you all, and thank you so much for reading!

**Also, if you feel so inclined, don't forget to vote; ****first round ends February 23rd!****!** http:/ inspiredfanficawards . blogspot . com/p/first-round-voting . html 


	14. Chapter Thirteen: A Slow Descent

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Don't Blame Yourself" as performed by Andrew Belle, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N**: *waves* Hi all! Before beginning, I'd just like to offer a huge thank you to everyone who is favorite-ing, alerting, reviewing, reading, and being just plain amazing. You all are what keep this story going, (well, that plus my incessant need to finish it), and I hope you know how much I appreciate you waiting, reading, and loving this as much as I do. I know I say it to those who review, but even to those silent readers, I hope you're enjoying just as much as the others are. :)

Before I let you move on, I must give a HUGE thank you to **clarabella75**, my fantastic beta-extraordinaire, and **puppymama0909**, my super awesome ficwife and pre-reader. I am lucky enough to call these wonderful, talented ladies friends. And I DO mean talented. If you haven't read _"_**Home**" or "**Isolation**", you are seriously missing out.

And lastly, a very special thank you to my wonderful friends and the women who hold my heart (and my writing) - **Kd Masen, Mash, Ali, **and** Bexly_, _**you ladies help me keep moving forward. Even amidst the distractions. :) Love you!

And now ... I present - The Aftermath.

Happy reading!

**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen:  
A Slow Descent**

_Oh, don't blame yourself  
Cause I know that you'll try  
But you need someone to be  
Someone better than me in your life_

"Don't Blame Yourself" – Andrew Belle

x0x0x0x0x0x

If it were even possible, the room was suffused with an even more suffocating stillness as soon as Rosalie's presence dissipated from our view. My eyes were locked on the ring. Its small, silver surface sank, floating whimsically to the bottom of the glass, where it nestled gently, diamonds pressed to the side, the rest lost in a haze of red wine.

I couldn't look away. Eyes were on me, encircling me, and I didn't know whose they were, but I had a pretty good guess, and that guess had me mentally sprinting from the room, screaming. An eternity of mere seconds later, I flinched when wooden chair legs scraped noisily against the floor, Emmett's arm brushing mine while his hasty, crutch-filled exit stirred the loose pieces of my hair.

My worst fears and, I couldn't deny, greatest hopes were confirmed. My heart was pounding in my throat, silence pressing against my ears, when the soundless bubble came to a sudden and harsh _pop_.

High-pitched female tones mingled with a low-bass, words indefinable while their chairs slid across the floor and back again, a jumbled mess of pressed looks, warbled speech, and misplaced diatribes of excuses. A well-rounded minute later, Marilyn and Randall Hale were gone, vanishing almost as magically as their daughter, nothing but dirty dishes and a wine-soaked ring to mark their unimpressive presence.

I glanced over at Jasper from beneath my lashes, curious at the reaction of the only remaining Hale. His eyes were focused on Alice, his façade a perfect divide between the depths of laughter and the mortification of his relation to … well, _that_.

It seemed almost fitting that Carlisle Cullen's smooth voice would break the traumatized atmosphere.

"Well, that was certainly … interesting." He chuckled a bit, the uncomfortable diffusion of a bomb already blown to bits. "You are all welcome to stay for a nightcap, or feel free to head home at your convenience." His eyes flickered to his wife, who took his hand, both standing in unison. "Esme and I are choosing to retire for the evening. Trevor, I'm sure you can entertain anyone who wishes to stay."

"I'd be glad to."

I glanced over at his name to find him fixated. My entire body turned away, scalded. It took everything I had not to breathe heavily.

"Thank you, son." Carlisle gave a quick, formal nod to the three of us who remained. "I hope you can forgive the unpleasantries of the evening." His eyes lit on me. The flames from Trevor's gaze intensified in his adoptive father's. "I look forward to seeing you again. Good night."

As he turned away, every muscle in my body unwound, an overwhelming relief from the intensity which I hadn't even felt snaking through my system. I nearly sank into my chair before Alice's cold fingers on my overheated skin halted me.

"Bella –" Her high voice began, soft in my ear, but the sound was off, oddly syncopated with a much lower tone. Treward.

"Bella –" he began in the same interval as my roommate, both halting and glancing at each other, Alice in annoyance. I heard Alice's inhale and flinched, immediately prepared for the verbal lashing.

Instead, all of her breath blew by me, a rush of hot air.

"Ali." Jasper's deep baritone was low, almost humming her name. "It's not his fault. Why don't we give them a few minutes?" His deep blue eyes flickered to mine, hints of warning playing in their depths. "We'll go, and you can let me explain."

She wavered, her eyes fixed on me and then Trevor, flickering back and forth between us a few times until finally giving in to the blue-eyed bartender's hand on her shoulder.

"Okay." She turned, her small arms barely making it around my shoulders. "Be careful, Bella." Her voice brushed against my ear. "Don't jump in before you're ready."

_If you only knew._

Alice's heels clacked across the wood. All of the air disappeared, sucked from my lungs at the same time it fled the room.

We were alone, and it was silent. I slid behind the chair, my hands sliding over the top, a subconscious barrier. Trevor's fingers tapped against the table, rhythmic, until he looked at me. He stilled completely when his eyes met mine, and I felt a pull, the indescribable draw of polar opposite magnetism. My hand slid down the front of the chair.

"Bella …"

I laughed.

It flew from my mouth, the beginnings of a hysterical chuckle, and I pulled my hand from the chair and pressed the back of it to my mouth. I shook my head, swallowing the sound, eyes fixed on the parquet floor and the pretty Persian rug as I took a few steps back.

"I –" I tried to speak, to tell him I had to go, to find Alice, because obviously my mental state was deteriorating in front of us both, but short, sharp giggles interspersed with hiccupping-coughs were all that would bubble up from behind my self-made barrier. "I – I just – I can't," I managed, now steadily backing towards the wood frame door, my speed increasing. His eyebrow rose slightly, dark green eyes watching me intently.

I couldn't meet those eyes, knowing.

I spun on my heel, taking two steps toward the door when a sickening snap vibrated in my eardrums, and then suddenly, I was a crumpled pile of red satin, golden heel dangling from my oddly twisted ankle by a frayed strap.

Shit. I liked those shoes.

It was my only thought before the pain hit and I sucked air in through my teeth, hissing. The aching throb in my ankle was intense, swallowing my concentration so that I nearly jumped from my skin when a warm, soft, electric hand wrapped around my shoulder. Instead, I flinched backwards, ready to hit the door frame – only to be wrapped in the same current.

"Bella, are you –"

"No, no, I'm fine, I'm … I'm sorry," I stuttered. A remnant of a hiccup rocked me, and I pressed my hand back to my mouth.

"Here." His voice was low, his hand reaching around to remove the remnants of my shoe and then sliding in front of my face to offer assistance. I waved him off, attempting to right myself on my own. Stabbing pain shot through my heel and up my calf from my ankle as I fell right back onto my ass. "Come on, Bella. Don't be so stubborn."

"Fine," I glowered. Did he always have to be right? Reaching forward, I took the hand which had reappeared in front of my face, bracing myself against the oak frame and standing to balance on one heeled foot.

His hands fell to my hips, hovering over the fabric of my dress, never quite touching, but I could feel the heat on my skin. If I had stuck a match in the space, I bet I could have lit us both on fire. I inhaled deeply, hoping the oxygen might make me a bit less edgy. I should have known better.

Every bit of him filtered into my lungs, from the sharp, warm scent of his cologne, to the leftover remnants of soap, to the warm musk that was his alone, the complexities imprinting his scent on my brain.

Christ … this was _not_ going as planned …

"You have no reason to apologize –"

"Yes, I do." My eyes were squeezed tightly, hands fisted at my side as I turned and attempted a weak hobble towards the dining room table. His hands hovered over me, waiting for me to fall.

_I will not touch him. _

"Didn't I ask you once _not_ to apologize to me?" It was nearly a growl, so close to my ear I sucked in a quick breath, bringing more of him into my system, saturating my senses.

"Mmhmm," I nodded, inhaling again. God … it was a better high than snapshot and muscle-car driving combined … man-scent high.

"Good."

At that one word, I wobbled.

A small shot of adrenaline ran through me when his hands found purchase, turning me to face him. My arms almost flew into his chest. I looked up at him, breathing in more. I couldn't get enough. He studied me, his green eyes flicking over my face, off-center lips tugged down in a half-frown.

"Bella …"

Releasing my hips, he cleared his throat and stepped back, placing inches of distance between us, almost as if he were afraid of being burned. My chest clenched at his reaction. Turning, I finished the distance of my wounded limp and dropped into a dining room chair, bringing my injured ankle up to rest on my knee. He followed and slid gracefully into the seat beside me.

We were inches apart, not touching, and I could literally _feel_ the ants beneath my skin. Everything in me wanted to leave, and fast. I fidgeted with the tips of my fingers.

The silence was awkward, more uncomfortable than not, and I was ten seconds away from standing and asking why he had brought me here when he reached his hand over and splayed his fingers across my ankle.

I was surprised by the gesture, and while the visceral part of me wanted to shove his hand further up my leg, the tamer, more conscientious part of me simply watched, fascinated, as he began to rub small circles around the joint, the motion equal parts callused strength and gentle fervor.

"Are you okay?"

The words slipped from my lips before I realized they were gone. He snorted, his thumb stilled, eyes lifted from my leg to the crook of my mouth.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

I couldn't bring myself to answer; instead, I merely watched him, my eyes hovering over his face, over the creased brow wrinkling the long scar that disappeared into his hairline, and over the small, unnoticeable nick of white flesh stamped directly underneath his eye. After a moment, he looked down and back up again.

"I won't say it was expected." A weak smile stretched across his lips, rueful. "But … yeah," he paused, eyes meeting mine, "surprisingly, I'm a lot better than you'd expect me to be." He laughed, no joy in the sound, hand leaving my leg and running through his hair. "Shit, I sound like such a prick." His hand remained relaxed while his entire body leaned towards me, eyes closed.

I just wished his hand would make its way back to my ankle.

"It's not like I asked for it, you know? I just … I can't believe it – it's over. Like that. And me. God … it's so screwed up, but in the middle of everything, all I can bring myself to feel is … relief."

And the gods saw fit to grant my request. His hand drifted absently from his hair and back to my steadily swelling ankle, the pad of his thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles on the sore spots while his eyes reached beyond my head, searching the wall.

"Why in the hell should I feel _relieved?_ It doesn't make sense. Hell, I'm not even completely sure why she broke it off, I mean, I know women do crazy things, but Rose … well, that wasn't her crazy. That was planned. I kind of wish she'd have thought to clue me in, but still … it's almost like … like I knew it was coming." Small tremors wracked my body as I fought to keep my lips sealed. Just because he was free didn't mean I could break my promise."I guess I don't understand. I love Rose … I know I do. But I just don't …"

"You're not in love with her."

The words had faded from his lips, finishing easily on mine. His gaze focused and came to rest on me, surprised.

"Yeah. How did you …"

I nearly bit my tongue. In my mind, everything made perfect sense. How could anyone ever know how to be in love if they didn't even know who they were? Of course, making that pronouncement here … well, I had the distinct feeling it wouldn't go over well.

"I – I just … guessed," I shrugged. The crashing sound of ceramic on ceramic effectively popped our bubble. I glanced over at the tiny woman cleaning the table and reluctantly pulled my ankle away from his grasp.

Treward's hand shot back immediately as he pressed the palm of it against his jeans.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, fuck … I've been rambling, and you need to get ice on that ankle and get it home." He turned to look over his shoulder at the woman all in black, currently retreating towards what I assumed to be the kitchen. "Sara, will you please bring an ice pack back with you for Miss Swan." As soon as the woman nodded her acquiescence, he turned back to me, rising and offering me his hand. "Why didn't you stop me?'

The black and purple slowly spreading across the injured joint didn't allow me to avoid touching him this time. Instead, I sucked in a breath and concentrated on not falling and providing him with the best answer I could give.

"I guess … you just looked like you needed to talk. And I know what it's like to need someone to listen."

Neither of us spoke again as he tugged me, unsteadily, to my feet. Sara appeared an instant later, dropping the cold plastic wrapped in a plain white towel into Treward's hand and shooting me a sympathetic look before retreating to her job.

I sucked in an unsteady breath as his hand wrapped firmly around the top of my waist, finger tips brushing innocently across my ribs, directly underneath my breast. Fuck … this man either had exquisite timing or absolutely no control over his hands.

"You okay?" he murmured, arm wrapping more tightly around me as I hobbled another step. He had taken my labored breathing for pain. I almost laughed, but instead I merely nodded.

We continued this way into the sitting room, me taking one hesitant step, Treward practically carrying me through the rest of the motion, me in one arm, my shoe and ice pack in the other.

However, even his careful treatment of my leg and corresponding body weight didn't hamper Alice's squeak when she noticed me hobble into the room.

"Bella! What did you _do_?" Her voice rang in the high ceilinged room. I cringed.

"Alice, I'm _fine_," I hissed, half in annoyance and half from stepping off-kilter out of Treward's gasp.

"What do you mean you're fine, your ankle is twice the size of the other one and your poor shoe is in shreds! I can't believe even two _inch_ heels are too dangerous for your poor body –"

"Alice." Jasper, ever the narcotic for his miniature devil, pressed a hand gently against her lips. "Hush. Bella's fine." I watched as his blue eyes glanced over Treward's hand against my rib cage, one eyebrow lifting minutely before falling back into place. "Although I'm sure she needs to get home as soon as possible and get it elevated."

Alice glared, clawing her boyfriend's hand away from her face.

"Look, I don't completely understand what's going on between you two, but just know – you better figure your shit out, and fast. I'm tired of my friends ending up burned in your crossfire."

With one last petulant glare, Alice disappeared down the hallway, presumably in the direction of Jasper's car.

"Well," I nodded, pushing lightly against Treward's shoulder to release the pressure, as his hand had grown tighter around my waist with each of my roommate's words, "three points for Alice."

Trevor simply glanced up at Jasper.

"She thinks this is my fault?"

Jasper sighed sharply through his nose, fixing Trevor with an amused glance.

"Not saying that it's all bad, man, but, in the scheme of things … would she be completely wrong?"

One knowing eyebrow-raise later, Jasper shoved his hands into his dress pant pockets and followed his girlfriend, hopefully with the intent to pull the car to the front of the walk. I glanced over to find Trevor's chest rising and falling heavily, his eyes fixed on my steadily swelling ankle. Well … Alice certainly knew how to make an exit.

"Hey," I mumbled, shoving the elbow closed to his side into his ribcage. "Pretty soon I'm gonna sprout roots."

"Hmm," he glanced up, clouded eyes shifting to recognition. "Oh, shit, Bella … fuck, this ice is gonna melt in my hand. I'm sorry, I'm such a dipshit."

We hobbled forward.

"It's okay." I resisted the temptation to lay my head on his shoulder in comfort. Alice's bad side was never a pretty place to be. "I'll work on getting the spoiled child to release the claws from your neck later. She's just worried about Rosalie. Alice tends to lash out."

He chuckled through his nose, the sound not quite happy. "Thanks."

My heart sank. I wanted him to smile again. It was wrong, so very, very wrong, and I had no right to even ask for that one grace, but the need for the sight of his lips curling upwards, eyes alight, just for me, just like they used to, burned like a ball of granite in my chest.

I hesitated and then opened my mouth.

"It's not your fault, you know."

"Yeah."

I glanced upwards and then at him from the corner of my eye, halting my step forward. He jerked against my sudden stop, his arm still latched around my waist.

"I'm serious. Just because your fiancée kind of fell for ou – _my_ best friend, it doesn't make it your fault."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I'm just saying what I know – well, what I think I know. You can talk to her about it later. I just," I paused, sighing. "You're a good person, Treward. A great person, in fact. Even with all the … shit, between us, you stopped it. You were good to her. And her choices, what she did? None of it was your fault."

_It was all mine._

I glanced up to find him staring at me, green eyes slightly wide, lips parted in a thin line, confusion and disbelief written into every line of his face. I counted the seconds, all the way to twenty, before I got _really_ uncomfortable.

"Um, you know, that whole myth about your face sticking that way?" I flicked my finger in a wide arc around his face. "I think we're about to find out if it's true."

"I – I," he stammered before pulling his gaze away and stepping again, my feet automatically following his. "Okay."

Speechless again. I was beginning to see a pattern.

We finished the hobble to the doorway in silence, Jasper's car patiently idling while overly generous hand gestures were erupting from the small _child_ in the passenger seat. Neither of them were paying attention to us, and so they didn't flinch when Treward halted, this time jerking _me_ to a stop.

"Can I call you?"

"Um – I – uh. What?"

The corner of his mouth lifted at my lame finish.

"You know, that new technology we have nowadays. It kind of rings, when someone wants to talk to you. I could have _sworn_ I'd seen you with one."

Oh my God. He was mocking me.

Well … it was a step.

"Har har," I intoned, rolling my eyes.

"Bella, I'm serious. Can I call you?"

His eyes searched mine, gold-specked green growing to a deep hazel in the soft entry light. He seemed almost … desperate. But his fiancée had just broken it off. And he was … well … he was _him_. Treward. Trevor _and_ Edward. Two people, with no memories, in one body.

How the fuck had the complications of my life multiplied in mere hours?

At the same time, with those eyes, and my best friend's face … shit. I was doomed.

"How about we start with a text?" I muttered, eyes fixed on his lips, which perked up a little more at my statement. I edged closer to the door, hand swinging to rest on my shoe and the ice pack. His fingers tightened and released, brushing the underside of my breast.

_Jesus, man …_

"Okay. I can do that."

"Then why don't you," I smirked a little. Christ, I was _flirting_. I moved one step out the doorway, half of me suddenly sheathed in the freezing winter air, leaning against the side for support. His warm hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging the other half of me back into the warmth of his home.

"Can I have your number?" His tonality made it seem as though it should be obvious.

I wasn't that easy to get.

"You can find it." I smiled, sliding my wrist from between the loose grasp of his fingers.

"Tease."

His last word washed over me while I leaned against the doorframe and peeled off my other shoe. I glanced up, and my heart skipped a small beat.

A teasing hint of a smile, almost happy, rested on his face, and for a moment I was twelve, my heart fluttering in my chest as I waited for Edward to come find me, scoop me up in his arms and toss me into the wet moss of a rainy April day, his hands buried in the throes of my hoodie, reaching places and teasing giggles no one else could find.

My breath caught, chest compressed, and I tugged my eyes away, limping in the direction of the car.

"Goodnight." His voice was as balmy as the muggy Southern summer, warming my chilled legs as I hopped twice and stopped, hands pressed against the damp, rain-specked car door.

"Goodnight," I muttered, to no one in particular, nearly sighing in simultaneous relief and despair when I heard the wood meet wood behind me.

The ride home was silent while Alice stewed in her irritation, the habitual dismissal of a true Southern belle. When we reached our apartment, Alice allowed Jasper a quick goodbye before hastily retreating to the sanctuary of her room, while Jasper carried me to my bed and elevated my yellowish-purple ankle with the golf-ball sized knot, leaving a new ice pack, my preferred pajama bottoms, and a tank top on the side of the bed.

After a curt response to his inquiry after my comfort, Jasper's tall figure slipped out the door, leaving me in a coffin of my own thoughts.

My mind was everywhere, lulled to a semi-conscious state by the ice-heavy rain slamming against the glass of my window. I was lost on the events of the evening, wandering over my every move and word – our every word. I had been _flirting_ with my amnesia-ridden best friend.

All I really wanted was normalcy.

Numbness, discarded grief, hidden memories and walls of boxed and boarded-up emotions … all of it was easier than this. Hiding, a patch-work girl with insides made of stone – that's who I was, who I had grown up as, who I knew.

Now … I was _feeling_.

I was wracked with guilt for wanting him to disappear again. I was shot with pain for the years we had missed each time I saw his face, the smile behind my eyelids which would never fade away. I was swelling with the absolute need to have him near me again, to fit back into the Edward-shaped hole he had created in my heart so many years ago.

My mind was a swirling black hole of vapid emotionless mass, sucking each thought into a swelling circle of depression I could feel brewing near the back of my chest, tightening my shoulders.

A lonesome tear slid over the crease in my eye, across my temple, vanishing into the depths of my hair.

I must have willed myself into a black, dreamless sleep, because in the next moment I found myself being literally prodded awake. The sharp pain digging itself into my side drew a grunted groan from my lips.

"Fuck … off."

"Oh, come _on_, Bells!" I glanced up from the corner of a sleep-fuzzed eye at the pitch of the whispering voice. "I don't have time for your grumpy morning ass!"

Rolling further sideways to snatch at my alarm clock, I glanced at the time and flinched when my ankle twisted, sharp pains ricocheting through the nerve endings all the way to my knee.

"Shit fuck!" I shot up off of the mattress, hands swinging down to clasp at the injured limb, Emmett staring at me in obvious confusion. Instantly, I ripped the comforter and sheets from the bed. Well … didn't they always say things got worse before they got better?

"Holy hell!"

I heard Emmett's exclamation in the back of my head, but I was still focused on holding back the tears of pain. My foot and calf throbbed, all the way to the tips of my toes. My ankle was slightly smaller than a tennis ball, an ugly circle of purple so deep it was almost black, stretching into thin layers of green, and then finally a vomit-yellow whose tendrils reached to my big toe.

"You need a doctor. Now." Emmett scooted closer to me, reaching to wrap his arms around my torso when I pushed him backwards.

"Em, what's today?"

He paused.

"Sunday?"

"I'm not sitting in an emergency waiting room till my ankle could have spontaneously set and healed itself, when I can go to an actual doctor tomorrow and find out what's really wrong, beyond being dosed up on morphine and vicodin." I sniffed, reigning in tears, knowing Em would never let me wait if he thought I couldn't handle it. "I'm fine." I collapsed backwards onto my pillow, drawing my eyes shut. "Now … what in the hell did you wake me up for at 6:45 on a Sunday morning?"

Emmett snorted. "And you say _he_ has amnesia."

My eyes snapped open.

_Oh … yeah._ Emmett knew.

"Okay …" I drew the word out. Emmett glared.

"What the _fuck_! Isabella Marie Swan, what in God's fucking name have you been keeping around here? What kind of secrets are brewing in your fucked up brain? What did you do, fine comb the adoption records, find some guy that looks like Edward, and put on a fucking show, just to mess my shit up? You're screwing with my head, Bells, and that is _not_ cool!"

"Emmett, slow down." I dropped my hand to his good leg and squeezed this shit out of his knee. He stopped and smacked my hand away, running the other across the sheets of my bed, his nervous habit.

"Look, Bella, I don't know what the hell I've walked into here. I gave you what you wanted last night, and now I need full disclosure before I make any more decisions, capiche?"

"I know, Em, I know."

_But where to begin?_

I glanced up at the closed door. Well … it was as good a place as any.

"In my closet. Can you bring me the black box?"

Emmett glanced at the white wood door and back at me before hobbling over with one crutch and pulling out my memories – our memories. He set them between us wordlessly, an unnaturally silent moment for Emmett. Usually, he wouldn't shut up. I guessed everything had freaked him out more than I'd realized.

Prying the lid halfway open, I glanced over at my best friend. His eyes were fixed on my hand, and ready or not, he was gnawing at the bit to be released. I could imagine my face had probably looked similar … maybe with a dash more terror.

His hand was in the box before I could move, shoving the lid the rest of the way backwards, his nearly too-large knuckles scraping against the sides.

"Holy mother of … Bella … how long have you had these?"

On top was my favorite, the fall picture that had broken me the first time I managed to make my way into the box. Underneath lay more pieces of our shattered, shared past, the children we used to be before time changed everything.

"I buried them the day we put him in the ground, Em." My thumb rubbed lightly over the image, over Emmett's face, before I fell silent, allowing him to reach the bottom of the stack on his own. The end to change everything.

A portion of my life slipped past me, a slide show, presented by Emmett's thumbs, age shining through the impure images and outdated styles. I knew it would be obvious when he reached it, the final picture of the stack. The one I had stolen from the manila envelope.

His hand stilled before his fingers quickly shuffled backwards, through four, five, six photographs before he found it. The same one as I had.

"What –" it was breathless and loud, a combination uniquely Emmett, and was followed by a string of expletives and a very confused rush of angry air.

"You can't deny it, can you?" I shook my head, collapsing onto the pillow behind me. "It's him."

"But it's not. He's Carlisle and Esme's son … "

"Yeah, Em … he's that too."

"But – I – he – they – I – " he spluttered, finally landing on the ever-lame, "huh?"

And so I began. I told him everything, from our first encounter at the club, to the meeting at the gym and the creation of my new addition, to the party and the photo shoot and right back down the winding circle to the dinner of last night – leaving out a few minor details, of course. I regaled him with the tale of my encounter with Esme two nights ago, before finally coming to the denouement of the past four months of my life – Treward's tale of heartache, woe, and unconsciousness.

I think it was the first time in my life I'd ever seen Emmett speechless for more than fifteen minutes. He couldn't even shut up in a movie theater. Five minutes after I had finished and he still wasn't speaking, I popped him in the bicep.

"Hello?"

"I just … I can't … shit, Bella, I think my brain's too fucked up from pain meds, or jacking off, or something. I don't –"

"Ew, Em, that's a visual I don't need right now, thanks." Scrunching up my nose, I picked up the box and set it on the other side of the bed, sliding the two photos beneath Emmett's leg. "Why don't you take those with you. Just … get used to it."

"Yeah," he fingered the two images, "okay."

Great. The lummox was too stunned to take a hint. And I really had to pee.

"Emmett," I shoved the leg which was crowding my space. "I would like to at least get a shower and pee now that you've fully awoken me from my beauty sleep. Think you and your crutch can help me limp to the bathroom?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, of course, Bells." Laying the pictures on my desktop, he stood and moved to be my own giant crutch as I slid off of the mattress, jostling my ankle again and nearly hissing through my teeth.

Yeah … it was definitely worse than I'd thought.

After five minutes of painful hobbling, I managed to pick out fresh undergarments, grab some sweats and a long sleeved tee, and find a non-catastrophic way to return to my bed when I was finished. Emmett promised to leave me a muffin, a few of his vicodin, a glass of juice, and a new ice pack in my room before he left for the day. He wouldn't tell me where he was going, but it didn't mean I didn't have a sneaking suspicion of my own.

Sitting on the bottom of my tub and bathing, I decided that while the water felt great to my grainy skin, waxy scalp, and unwashed face, I would have to find some way to either invest in a plastic stool or find something else to support me higher up in the shower.

The next thirty minutes were some of the most challenging of my life. After heaving myself to the toilet and toweling dry, I pulled on my clothing and squeezed as much water out of my hair as I could manage, wrapping it into a messy bun to keep it off of my neck. However, during the trying feat of moving back into my bedroom, I broke out into yet another cold sweat, somehow feeling as though I had reversed some of the progress of my shower.

I collapsed onto my bed, sending mental thanks to Emmett for the food and pain pills, when a sharp stab in my hip caught my attention. I dug into the massive amounts of sheets and pillows, coming up with my very lonely cell phone.

It was off.

Memories from last night came flying at me in a rush. There was no way he could have gotten my number that fast … was there?

I almost didn't want to turn it on, stomach knotted tight in fear and anticipation, but I guess my subconscious felt differently. Without a thought, my thumb held down the power key, the happy chimes of my phone's start-up screen vibrating in my hand.

I held my breath, waiting for the telltale vibrations accompanied by a chipper little series of bells. I waited … and waited … and finally released my breath, dropping my hands into my lap. Disappointment littered my mind, a shockwave of bad thoughts and heavy strain that pressed against my chest.

It hadn't even been twelve hours. I knew my hopes were ridiculous, but was I so wrong to hope? In the light of last night's events … probably.

My neck sagged against the mass of pillows, my hand reaching across my lap to take the muffin, the apple juice, and the vicodin off of the bedside table, when I felt it – the chirpy, two-tone ring and the vibrations coursing through my legs.

I froze.

No way. Had I been too impatient? Had I summoned his written words?

_Oh, come on, it could be anyone, _I argued with myself.

Except that I wasn't exactly popular enough to receive even twenty texts a week, much less on a Sunday. Renee never texted; it was a process much too technologically advanced for her senility.

There was no way.

I wouldn't know if I never picked up the phone.

It was in my hands before I knew it, fingers sliding past the locking mechanism. A number I didn't recognize.

The pad of my thumb pressed down. _Read now_.

I almost dropped the phone, my heart fluttering into my throat and stomach sinking into my chest.

_Don't challenge me, Bella. I told you I would find you.

* * *

_

Remember, if you feel so inspired as to tell me what you think, I'd love to share a bit of what's next with you! Until next time, a bientot et bonne vie!_  
_


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Tangled Up In Moments

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Wish You Were Here" as performed by Avril Lavigne, and I will not be earning income from  
using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** *gasp* I'm back before a month has passed! I know, I know, it's very hard to believe ... but it's TRUE!

First, I'd like to say thank you to my awesome beta, **clarabella75**, for being so supportive and wonderful. This woman truly is more than superbeta, she's supermom and superteacher, and she manages to do all of that and STILL be a great friend. Secondly, to my amazing wifey and pre-reader, **puppymama0909**, thank you for just being ... well ... you. I can't even express everything you do for me, INCLUDING the super-awesome-licious write up this month on the **Fanficaholics Anonymous Blog**, featuring **Remember Me Tomorrow** - You ROCK, bb! And if you don't know what I'm talking about ... well, visit my profile and come join us, because if you're not in FFA, you're missing out!

Second, thank you to all of you who come back update after update, encouraging me to keep going and never give up. :) I hope you enjoyed your sneak peak, and just know, you all make the days writing worth while. I could NEVER express how much you all mean to me. Never stop being amazing.

Lastly - to my super fic-awesome girls over on the **Fanficaholics Anon Forum**, thank you for your unending support. **Ali, Lisa, Kd, Mezz, Bex, JJ, Riley, Rae, Zen, TGB, **- you are phenomenal, and I am honored to call you my friend. Love you girls, from the bottom of my heart.

Now, let's settle in for a little R&R with Bella and Treward ... hope you enjoy the love!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen:  
Tangled Up In Moments**

_I can be tough  
I can be strong  
But with you, it's not like that at all  
There's a girl that gives a shit  
Behind this wall, you just walk through it  
And I remember all those crazy things you said  
You left them running through my head  
You're always there, you're everywhere  
But right now, I wish you were here_

"Wish You Were Here" – Avril Lavigne

x0x0x0x0x0x

_8:07 am: Don't challenge me, Bella. I told you I would find you. _

_8:08 am: Um, Trevor? Also - if this isn't Trevor, then this isn't Bella. _

My fingers sketched loosely over the buttons, playing the flirtatious part I didn't feel. Of course, sarcasm always had been my go-to in an uncomfortable situation. Original, right?

It took only seconds before my phone buzzed in my hands again.

_8:08 am: Okay, not Bella, is there any chance at me finding a Bella anywhere near you?_

What the hell?

Oh … he was trying to be funny.

The vicodin must have been kicking in. Not only did I laugh, I decided to play along.

_8:09 am: There might be a Bella down the street, but I never asked her. She's kind of plain, mousy, and likes to wear sneakers a lot. _

I snickered. The response was nearly instant. Damn, the man was fast.

_8:09 am: Damn. Must not be the same Bella, because the Bella I know is outgoing, honest, and funny, with beautiful, silky hair and a mouth that rivals a sailor. _

I was sure the blush spread to the center of my scalp. Another text popped up before I could respond.

_8:09 am: And I like your sneakers._

I laughed out loud.

_8:10 am: Okay, okay, you got me. I'm impressed, creeper. How'd you work your magic so quickly?_

I adjusted my leg, slid the ice pack gently on top of my sweat pants, and put the muffin in my lap before my phone buzzed again.

_8:11_ _am_: _That's for me to know and you to find out._

_8:12 am: Original … the only traitor I can think of is Jasper. Do he and I need to have a talk about hacking his girlfriend's phone?_

_8:14 am: My lips are sealed. So … how's your ankle? _

_8:14 am: Painful. But it'll heal. My shoes, however, have seen better days. _

_8:15 am: Poor shoes. I hope Alice won't mourn their loss for too long. _

_8:16 am: They were my shoes. I'm thinking of having a funeral. Possibly a wake. Wailing, gnashing of teeth, shredding clothes … you know, the norm. _

_8:17 am: Ah. I'm sure it's left a huge void in your heart._

That one hit home. _Not as large as you did_, was my preferred response. I settled for more sarcasm.

_8:18 am: It's not as large as the knot in my ankle._

_8:20 am: I'm so sorry, Bella. I wish there was something I could do. _

_8:22 am: You can keep me company since I can't walk or get out of my bed._

Speaking of, how in the hell was I going to get lunch? This muffin was not going to cut it for the rest of the day. I hoped Alice would emerge from her hidey-hole, possibly notice my absence from the rest of the apartment, and come looking.

His next response was long in coming. I sat, drank my juice, ate my muffin, and fought against the numbing web spreading over my brain from the vicodin. I ached for more of his conversation. I wasn't hearing his voice, I wasn't in direct proximity to him; it couldn't be that bad, could it? The vibrations against my legs reached my sleep-logged brain.

_8:37 am: Can I come over?_

I visibly flinched. My fingers hovered over the keys, unable to answer. _Yes or no?_ The angel and the devil on my shoulder fought. Did I truly need more mind-fuckery today? Probably not. The past forty-eight hours had been enough for a lifetime. His un-engagement hadn't even passed the twenty-four hour marker yet. Not to mention the Trevor-hating she-devil who was probably ruminating in her lair at this precise moment, feverishly livid at the world for throwing off the balance of her kismet.

It didn't matter that my chest squeezed painfully, desperately struggling for control over my thumbs in order to send a different answer into cyberspace. For now, Trevor and I being seen together was a no-go.

_8:42 am: It's probably not a good idea. _

His response came faster than I would have expected.

_8:43 am: Why not? I could help take care of you._

I sighed. He just had to fight it, didn't he? I fought back, but every subsequent text message chipped a little piece of my resolve into dust.

_8:46 am: Did you happen to forget you were engaged yesterday? Not to mention the fact that my roommate still wants to kill you. Alice is here to take care of me._

_8:49 am: No, I didn't forget. And I know Alice. She's probably so busy wallowing, she hasn't even noticed your existence. Have you had breakfast?_

_8:54 am: Emmett left me a muffin and some juice. And it feels like the crack of dawn. Alice might still be … sleeping. _

_8:57 am: Weak. Alice is an early riser. Don't ask how I know that. And a muffin, really? Is Emmett still there to feed you a proper breakfast? _

_9:00 am: I don't want a proper breakfast, I liked my muffin. It was raspberry. And no, Emmett left. _

_9:01 am: I won't stay long if you don't want me to. I just want to check on your ankle. _

_9:03 am: So you can see how bad it is? Nope. I've got drugs. I'm fine. I'm a big girl. _

_9:04 am: I'll bring coffee. _

Oh God. Coffee sounded _delicious._

No. I couldn't break down.

_9:08 am: No you won't. Because you're not coming over. And you don't know what I like._

_9:09 am: White chocolate raspberry mocha, skinny, with one extra sugar. _

Damn. He was good. I tapped my thumb against the phone with my eyes rolled back in my head, which was flat against my pillow, fighting the vicodin. The phone buzzed before I could respond.

_9:12 am: Why don't you want me there?_

Shit.

Straight to the point, and now my heart was throbbing around the poison-tipped spear. I slid further under my covers, trying to respond, my aching ankle a dull flicker behind my steadily closing eyelids. My fingers moved, skimming through the truth in my drug-induced haze.

_9:18 am: Because I do._

I don't even remember pressing the send button, but the waking sensation of a gentle hand spread over my foot was a subtle indication that I had.

My lids fluttered, senses returning to embrace the heat of the blankets I was cocooned inside of, followed by a light pain that fluttered up my leg. I groaned, rolling over and fully intending to snag another vicodin, when my arm and the majority of my left shoulder hit empty air.

"The hell –"

I tensed, shoulders, head, and neck ready for the impact – but no pain hit my ready and waiting nerves. Instead, those same nerves registered warmth and pressure, wrapped around my waist, while the majority of my upper body remained suspended above the floor.

"And you say you don't need someone to watch you."

The laughter in his voice was plain enough to spread a crimson bloom all the way down my neck.

"Well if I hadn't somehow ended up in the living room, I wouldn't have _needed_ to be watched," I grumbled. With his help, I pulled myself around to rest where I had apparently been sleeping and surveyed my surroundings.

Undoubtedly, I was in the living room; the television was on, volume nearly muted, while my legs sat in Trevor's lap, two pillows propped up behind my head and two more blankets layered over the rest of my body. My vicodin and the remainder of my apple juice sat on the coffee table. I shoved my hand through my hair and squeezed my eyes shut, swallowing thickly. My mouth was cotton.

"How did I get down here anyhow?"

"I carried you."

I squinted, staring at the man sitting across from me through the tiny slits, when my foggy mind cleared a little more. What … what the fuck?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Trevor lifted the remote and began scrolling through the channels. "Well that's a friendly greeting for the person who just saved you from a broken nose to match your broken ankle."

He _had_ saved my face, so I resisted the urge to hit him, but the nonchalance in his voice was nothing short of infuriating, even in my less than coherent state. And it didn't stop me from being petulant.

"It is _not_ broken." I crossed my arms over my chest. "And I wouldn't have needed to be saved if _you_ hadn't brought me down here in the first place." If I could've stomped, I would have.

Trevor tossed the remote to the coffee table and turned to me, gingerly lifting my ankle.

"Excuse me for thinking you might have wanted to leave your room today." He slid the injured limb onto a pillow beside him. "And how do you know it's not broken?"

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Why are you even here? Didn't I ask you not to come over?"

"That's not the text I got."

"Your phone's possessed. And I don't know that it's not broken. I'm just … hoping."

Frowning, Trevor pulled his phone off of the coffee table, scrolled through it and shoved the device under my nose.

_Message sent: Why don't you want me there?_

_Message received: Because I do. _

Well, fuck. I thought I had erased that.

"Fine." My arms were back across my chest when another thought struck me. "Where's Alice?"

"She's shopping with Rose and then has a date with Jasper." Trevor snagged the remote and started channel surfing again. "Good God, nearly two-hundred and fifty channels, and _still_ nothing to watch. What the hell is the appeal of a TV, again?"

I decided to ignore his rambling.

"How do you know what Alice is doing?"

"I have my sources."

_Yeah, the same one that gave you my number. Benedict Hale._

"So … she doesn't know you're here?" I snuggled a little further into my pillow-infested cave, the blanket-like layers of the pain pills settling over me again. While I wasn't dog tired, I was drowsy, and my mind was retreating to the comfortable, somnambulant haze of peace and safety.

"No. And so long as you in your drugged state can keep your mouth shut, she doesn't _have_ to know." He glanced at me sideways, reaching to rest his hand against my ankle. "You need someone to take care of you, Bella." His eyes narrowed. "And you need to go to the emergency room."

I flapped my hand once or twice in the air before letting it fall to my lap, a wistful attempt at waving him off.

"I'll go to the doctor tomorrow. So, where's my mocha?"

"It's not good to mix caffeine and vicodin, Bella."

I scowled.

"Well, I need _something_ to drink. My mouth tastes like cotton." I raised my cup pathetically. "And my juice is gone."

Trevor looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Was he … offering? Oh. He really meant it.

"I think we have some ginger ale in the fridge?"

My request came out more as a question, but regardless, for the first time, he didn't give me hell. Instead, he simply made his way to the kitchen and returned with a PB&J sandwich and a soda. I took the plate from his hands, eyes questioning. When he crossed his arms over his chest, it wasn't petulant; instead, it was commanding and deserving of respect.

"You can take another pill, _after_ you eat some lunch. Vicodin on an empty stomach is almost worse than with caffeine."

"Yes, master." I rolled my eyes and sighed. However, as Trevor settled back onto the couch beside me, I popped open the soda and took a bite of the sandwich, nearly groaning in pleasure from the feel of the crisp, cool drink and the sweetly salty tang of Goober on my tongue. Why hadn't I realized I was hungry?

I chewed slowly, savoring every bite of the sandwich and lingering over every thought in my head.

I had put up a fight, and he hadn't gone away. Alice had left, and it was truer than I wanted to admit – today would have been particularly hellish with no one here to take care of me. I was crazy if I thought I could get down the stairs with this ankle; the coordination required to feed myself was an entirely different playing field. And hungry Bella was _not_ a pretty Bella.

But why was he here?

Less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been fully committed, engaged to the wealth of Atlanta society and resting in the happy, healthy palm of surety. I could never forget his confession, the oddly placed relief which left me annoyingly confused and elated, but it seemed more important that here, in the heartbeat of the deep South, the Bible belt, where the tradition-conscious masses could ruin generations of legacy, he should at least _pretend_ to go through the typical period of mourning.

As though someone had died.

But obviously he hadn't cared. He wasn't grieving, and he didn't give a shit if anyone thought he was or not. So the most insistent question finally surfaced – if he didn't care, why should I?

I had been good before, when it was morally wrong; I had hidden and pushed away, shoving backwards and nearly falling over the edge. Now, all that remained at stake were opinions and feelings, thoughts and gossip.

What the hell did it matter anymore?

Tossing back the vicodin, I crushed the empty can and sat it on top of my plate.

"Thank you." My words were quiet, and I didn't expect a response, choosing instead to show my gratitude through my lack of protestation.

"You're welcome."

He heard me anyway.

The rest of the afternoon passed into oblivion. The door didn't open or shut for anyone except the Chinese delivery guy, and I was home. Silence ruled, a comfortably intense peace I had never experienced before. We watched movie after movie, show after show, comments breaking the silence now and again, laughter more prominent than not.

Halfway through, my head worked its way onto a pillow and into his lap, his hand winding through the thick strands of hair, nails scraping pleasurable against my scalp. Hour chased hour, practically eating one another, and I listened to the rain stop, watched the clouds break and followed the rays of light which stretched across the floor, shrinking as time ticked by. Soon, I was dreading Alice's return, the moment he would have to leave.

The moment came too soon.

"Bella."

My name was a soft whisper in my ear, and I was shaken soothingly.

"Hmmm."

"I'm going to pick you up and carry you to bed now. Please don't kick me or anything, okay?"

"Okay," I muttered, still incoherent. A small part of me registered his imminent departure, and that part ached in response. I frowned, grasping at his neck when I felt solidity disappear from underneath me. His corresponding chuckle vibrated in my arms and chest.

An instant later, his warmth disappeared, my blankets reaching my chin. Groaning, I turned over and reached for him. Soft fingers brushed against my forehead, fading at my temple.

"I have to go, Bella." My hands found his wrist, wrapping solidly around them. "I promise, I'll text you, okay?"

_No … stay._

But he was gone, his arms leaving my skin and his presence disappearing from my room, albeit not from my dreams.

I discovered the next morning he had wiped his presence from the house just as well. As I made my way around the apartment with Emmett and Alice's help, readying for my trip to the doctor, each small trace of him that had disappeared left my heart a little emptier, my head wondering whether our rainy Sunday afternoon had ever happened.

The only confirmation I had was the nondescript number in my phone and a series of text messages I was willing to guard with my life. Trevor and his inane texts didn't leave my mind the rest of the day.

After returning to work with two torn ligaments, one bruised muscle, a casted foot, and two crutches, I tried desperately to focus, to perform the most interesting tasks, to immerse myself in my editing, formatting, and styling. Nothing drew my attention more than the small plastic device sitting less than a foot from my hand at all times. I had begun to wonder if I had dreamed his promise to text when my phone began to vibrate, nearly collapsing from the edge of my desk while I jumped out of my skin.

"Shit!" I bit the inside of my cheek, praying the unbidden curse was low enough no one else heard it. In seconds, my cell was in my hands.

I hadn't dreamt it.

_5:03 pm: Ready to turn into a princess, Cinderella, or is your carriage still a pumpkin?_

I snickered at the reference, simultaneously blushing, and responded.

_5:04: I don't think Emmett would appreciate you calling him a gourd._

So began the natural course of the weeks which would follow.

After obtaining the gentlemanly approval for texting me at work, we initiated a repertoire which would have put even the most experienced teenage texters to shame.

Text after text, conversations which would stretch through the day and into the night on inane topics like the color of the underside of a sea turtle and whether a zebra really was black with white stripes or white with black stripes. Music, movies, and cars; favorites, families, and friends; world politics, popular literature, school and careers; anything and everything coursed through the air waves, and nothing was off limits – except for the past, of course.

That was a subject neither of us seemed willing to touch with a ten-foot pole.

For now, though, the past never seemed to matter; we had enough to keep us occupied between our daily lives and the pieces of one another fate had never allowed us to fit together.

Days passed, days with his words, but never his voice, his presence, the warmth of his skin against mine. It was too soon. I had talked him into it myself, stupidly claiming his own good, knowing that I was really just scared to see him again. Scared he'd come back and I'd be wrong, because now that I was right, I barely knew what to think. But steadily, a rising panic began to hum in the back of my mind.

I couldn't have pointed it out and said 'here', couldn't have laid a finger on exactly what was bothering me, but I noticed it a few days after our first text; a light jump, moments of a tightly wound nervous twitch which built until I was restless and harried, searching for an indefinable point, the answer that wouldn't come.

Unsurprisingly, my anxiety must have shimmered through my written word. I always had been an open book.

Two weeks after our perfect Sunday, I woke to my usual crack-of-dawn text; however, this morning, I wondered if I was still sleeping.

_7:17 am: Wear something extra warm today. _

It was an enigma at best.

I sat on my bed staring at my phone, unable to decipher his warning. It _was_ the end of October, but the end of October in the South meant bright sunshine and fifty degree weather, with the barest chance of a wind chill of forty-eight.

It didn't make any sense to my sleep-inebriated mind, but I wore a cardigan over my long sleeved tee and long underwear beneath my jeans anyhow, deciding that obeying was better than freezing. I nearly dropped my purse trying to peel off the cardigan when I crutched outside into the _warmer_ than usual October air.

Emmett burst out laughing and tossed his singular crutch into the backseat while I struggled to get into the car. His booted left foot allowed him the ability to drive, while my torn and bruised right ankle left me completely helpless when it came to transportation. Unless I wanted to take the bus.

Ew.

Instead, I glared at my chauffeur, nearly whacking him in the head with my rubber-bottomed instruments of death while I tossed them into the car.

"You're such a gentleman."

"You're the one bundled up on a perfect day … _Buggy_." He drawled the last word.

"Fuck you," I deadpanned. I _hated_ that nickname. Renee had heard Dad call me Bella-bug _one time_ and decided that it was funnier as _Buggy_. If, at twelve, I would have known how, I'd have shoved a stiletto in her mouth. Emmett knew how much I hated it, and therefore loved to use it to make fun of me when I did stupid things – or as he said, when I acted like my mother.

Talk about adding insult to insult.

Emmett, being the other born and bred Northerner, was perfectly comfortable in jeans, a tee, and a short-sleeved button down shirt. I wished I was in my knitted, white, three-quarter length sweater and _no_ long underwear. I pulled out my phone.

_8:34 am: You had better have a damn good reason I'm in more than one layer. It's almost in the 60's out here. _

His response wasn't long in coming.

_8:39 am: Just trust me. And let me know when Emmett's good and gone. _

I stared at the phone, feeling as though something should be clicking by now. I had nothing.

Emmett dropped me off at work a little after nine, and by nine thirty I was busy working away at the same amount of clue I had – nothing. The screen was as blank as my mind, and I felt more than a little exhausted, jumps, jitters, and nervous curiosity aside. Trevor had never responded to my last text, which was more than unusual.

In all honestly, it's not that I had nothing to do, it's just that I had no focus left to do it with. My mind was scattered over this layer and that, picking topics and fooling with daydreams, lost in lush, green, mossy, wet enchanted forests of ancient history, dripping with lichen and moss.

The sound of his voice saturated it all.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"Your job must be thrilling."

My eyes snapped open. _Edward?_

"Tred-ver!" It was a hushed whisper, so convoluted and spitting right out of my dream world that I just prayed he would assume what he wanted to hear.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't draw attention to us, but I couldn't help the bounce in my seat at his smug, off-center grin, followed by my pathetic attempt at standing, which turned into more of a forward free-fall.

Pushing the door to my office closed, he stepped forward and caught me effortlessly, pulling me upright as I slung my arms around his neck. His chuckle rumbled through my bones.

"Good to see you, too."

"Sorry." I pulled back, trying to retake my seat in my desk chair, but his arms locked tighter around me, holding me upright. _Oh. Okay._

"Why are you apologizing? I could live for a greeting like that every day."

I felt the blush this time, spreading thick across my cheeks. Automatically, I turned the spotlight back on him and smacked his chest.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Spending my Friday how _I_ want, for once." He raised an eyebrow and tightened his fingers along my back.

"What?" I was genuinely confused. He wanted to spend the day at work with me?

Trevor laughed.

"We're playing hooky. Now, get your crutches, Hobbles, we've got a good drive ahead of us."

"What – I – but – I'm working," I hissed. He rolled his eyes.

"You seem _very_ busy." He nodded at my blank computer screen. My blush deepened.

"What about the bookstore? You told me you had to work today."

He grinned, and his voice turned gravelly.

"I'm just so," he coughed twice, "very sick. I don't think it'd be good for me to work today." He frowned. "You aren't going to deprive me of my medicine, are you Bella?"

_No. I don't ever want to leave your side and lose you again._

"I guess not," I mumbled instead, shoving backwards and plopping into my desk chair. "What about 'staying out of the spotlight'?"

"That's where it's brilliant," he grinned and moved around to lean against the wood, hands stuffed into his pockets. "You're at work … I'm at work … so long as we get back before five, no one will have any reason to ask questions. Emmett picks you up at five thirty, right?"

I was silenced. I didn't have any strenuous, up-and-coming due dates, no meetings planned; in all honesty, today was set up to be a particularly boring Friday. It actually wasn't a bad plan. And, all of a sudden, since the moment his voice had infiltrated my daydreams, the bundle of nerves buried at the back of mind had begun to uncoil.

It was weird.

"Bella."

I looked up when his hand found mine, the warmth of his palm soaking through my skin, my name slicing through my thoughts.

"Stop _thinking_. Just come with me."

And then he used his greatest weapon against me. The one word which had been both of our downfall, once upon a story.

"Please?"

I should never have looked into his eyes.

* * *

If you feel so inspired, leave some love for "behind the scenes" sneak peeks. :)


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Please Remember Me

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Remember Me" as performed by Lucie Silvas, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** As this chapter is an absolute monster, I promise not to keep you any longer than necessary.

To ******clarabella75**, you have an amazingness that cannot be named. I know you say you don't feel as though you do much, but you do much more than you know. Thank you.

To **puppymama0909** ... I'm not even sure that what I want to say can be said. You're more to me than anyone else will probably ever understand. But I know you do, so that's what matters.

To **all of you who reviewed ... YOU ARE MY HEART**. You are the heart of this story, and I am sorry for not doing everything I could to get it up sooner. Life, unfortunately, tends to make us fail. But I WILL finish this, come hell or high water. You have my word. :)

To **Ali**, (better known as **Flappergirl**) - for this chapter, your music has been my inspiration. You're lovely, darling.

To hear** Lucie Silvas's "Remember Me"**, which is the theme for this chapter and kind of the entire story, check out my profile, where I'll have a link to the Youtube video. I listened to it on repeat for the last section.

Be forewarned - tissues MAY be necessary.

I love you all, and kind wishes to each and every one of you. :)

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen:  
Please Remember Me**

_Restless is the heart that wonders, but for the moment you are passing through,  
Like the sunlight reappearing, as the clouds withdrew.  
Was it you who left me wondering where the world outside my window leads?  
It's the strangest kind of feeling, oh so bittersweet._

_Anyone can see the sorrow, but there's a tenderness behind your scars.  
And I was there when you were laughing; I know who you really are. _

_You will go where you need to; I hope you will find peace,  
And any time you start to believe that everyone in life just leaves your side_

_Please remember me._

"Remember Me" – Lucie Silvas

x0x0x0x0x0x

"_Stop thinking. Just come with me." _

_And then he used his greatest weapon against me. The one word which had been both of our downfall, once upon a story. _

"_Please?" _

_I should never have looked into his eyes._

"Let's go."

Grabbing my crutches and my cardigan, I followed him out of the door and into the schizophrenic weather I was _not_ dressed for, leaving a note with Janelle to redirect any calls from clients to my voicemail and to tell any family members I was in an all-day meeting.

I think she got the hint.

We hurried as quickly as I could crutch out to the parking garage where Eleanor sat waiting on us, her bright, shiny red paint and chrome a welcome sight. Treward threw my purse, cardigan, and crutch into the backseat after helping me slide in. I quickly rolled down the window and basked in the sunlight. It was hard to believe the daily temperature had been in the forties a few short weeks ago. I was quickly learning not to assume _anything_ about the South.

It took over an hour to drive to, well, wherever we were going, but the ride was something out of an old romance.

The sun-kissed sky was perfection, cloudless and blue, limitless as it stretched into the horizon and beyond, an eternity of effortless cityscape reaching with it. I chattered nervously for the first few minutes, playing twenty questions with our destination, but Trevor just smiled, that characteristic, off-center grin which threw me in every direction. As we reached the edge of the city and took the highway north, I ceased my barrage, settling instead into that same comfortable silence from our Sunday afternoon, and playing with the satellite radio until I landed a station both of us could enjoy.

The road stretched before us and behind us, a never ending sea of concrete framed by a rolling river of trees, bare branches stripped by the coming winter and past cold, but still strong and sturdy in their own right. On such a sunny day, they weren't menacing or even depressing; they were reality, made unsightly by the simplistic cruelty which would bring blossoms of unspeakable beauty when the time was right.

I turned my attention to the landscape; the dense forests of wiry trees and brown speckled grass which still waved, mostly green, as we raced further from the city limits and into the wilds of north Georgia.

Regardless of the sun-drenched warmth, the wind still had a nip of cold in the air to cut through the usual humidity, evident of the coming change in season. Forty-five minutes into the drive, however, the nip became more of a bite. I rolled my window up, rubbing at my shoulders as Trevor grinned at me and rolled his up as well.

I was staring out at the cresting hills and rolling valleys when we suddenly pulled off of the highway and down an exit ramp. A thought struck me. We were in the middle of nowhere.

"Are we going into the mountains?"

Trevor's grin crept a little higher.

I was right. So _that's _why it was getting so much colder. I was suddenly glad I had brought my cardigan. Even if I wouldn't have frozen without it, life would be much warmer with it. But what in the hell could I do in the mountains? I stared forlornly at my cast.

"I hope you're not expecting me to hike."

Trevor laughed.

"Patience, Bella."

"I'm just saying." I crossed my arms and slumped a bit further into my seat.

Trevor continued to drive, the concrete drawing closer together while the brush and forest pressed in from either side, as though it were slowly ingesting the road, until all of the asphalt was gone and we traveled on nothing but gravel. I was silently wondering if we were going to be swallowed by the foliage and never seen again when the trees suddenly cut away on either side.

As Ellie rumbled her way over the small hill and out of the dense forest, I gaped.

A smoothly sloping valley spread into rolling hills, carpeted with generous layers of thick, sweetly-scented grass, a vibrant green with sparse hints of brown for flavoring. Nestled in the depths of the valley was a rustic, river-stone lined and oak paneled cabin, two stories of pastoral peace, probably bigger than anything my childhood fantasies could even contain.

But the crowning jewel, the ripe, red maraschino cherry on top of the nut-covered, whipped cream-smothered, caramel-fudge filled banana split sundae, was the lake. It stretched off, about fifty feet away from the house, a shimmering slat of smooth waves stirred up by a fall breeze.

The sun mirrored the shining surface and I couldn't see the end as it stretched further on, around a bend of trees and into oblivion.

We had been dropped into a painting, a fucking episode of "Little House on the Prairie – Rich Kid Style."

And I began to wonder for the first time exactly how Trevor had grown up.

Nearly halfway to the house, the pressure of his hand against my jaw released me from my trance. Sucking up spit, I pulled my gaze to his and pointed.

"Is this –?"

"My dad's, yeah." He turned to smile at me as he pulled the car to a stop, and I was nearly blinded by the pride and obvious thrill he took in bringing me here. "Mom and Dad only come out here during the summer though."

He turned back to the sunlight streaming through the windshield. His eyes slid shut. "But this place is my sanctuary."

After a few more moments, he jumped out of the car and came to my door, lugging my crutches behind.

"I've been coming here since … well, as long as I can remember."

A bitter laugh nearly slipped through my pursed lips. _More literal than not, huh?_

He took a few steps and turned back to me. "Can you crutch in the grass?"

I tested my instruments of death, sticking them into the ground, and threw him a thumbs-up as they pressed against the dirt, crushing blades of grass. We walked to the front door in silence.

Inside, everything was slightly warmer, the air heavy on my skin, but the light smell of coconut, grass, and dusty sunshine slipped through my senses. Everything was broad, open, and airy, but the atmosphere of the space was weighty and intense, with a faint sense of disuse which cast a tangible presence on the walls and dusty furniture.

The space practically _longed_ to be lived in.

Sudden heat shot through my arm and I sprang sideways, nearly losing a crutch.

"Jumpy much?" Trevor laughed, but he still pulled his hand back when I shot him a dirty look.

"Sorry, I'm not really used to strange men dragging me forty-five minutes into the country to a house in the middle of nowhere where I'm positive no one could hear me scream."

I watched as he sauntered to the fridge and pulled out a small wicker basket.

"You call that being dragged?"

"Fine, eloquently coerced. What is that?"

"This?" He gestured with the basket in his hand. I raised an eyebrow. "Lunch." His lips twisted into his signature smirk, lifting a scarred eyebrow.

"You're seriously taking me on a picnic?"

I was shot through with disbelief, not because it didn't sound wonderful, but because it was insanely implausible and old-fashionably Southern. Sadly, my comment probably came off more disdainful than I intended.

Trevor's smile faded.

"I just thought it might be nice to get out." He shrugged. "We can just eat something here if you'd rather."

_Shit … _

It figured, my friend was trying to do something nice for me and I managed to crush his spirit with the sarcasm I couldn't get off of my tongue.

He set the wicker basket on the countertop and turned towards the fridge, but I was behind him in two crutches, reaching for his hand, grabbing his fingers before I could think. The heat tingled up my arm and Trevor started at the contact, but I kept hold while I realized that this was the first time _I_ had ever reached for him first.

I took a deep breath and blew out the words before I could think too long and lose my nerve.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way, I'm just the Northerner from a small town who has never been on a picnic in her life." I offered a smile. "It's too pretty to waste the day. Let's eat outside."

His fingers shifted under mine. "Are you sure?"

I pushed as much confidence as I didn't feel into my grin. "Yeah, I'm sure."

It was all we needed to set the afternoon right. I followed Trevor out of the house and on a short walk, down to the edge of the lake where he spread out a huge throw he had taken from the back of the sofa and unpacked our lunch – pineapple chicken salad, half a loaf of sourdough bread, Pringles, carrots, grapes, pickles, and two bottles of water.

He never let go of my hand.

An hour later, our meaningless chatter had drifted to a lull. I breathed in deeply, dirt, knee-high grass, and water a subtle swirl for the heady scent of outdoor air, and, while the temperature was definitely cooler here, the abundant sun had warmed the earth through, enough to induce a nearly somnambulant haze on everything in its grasp.

I was surrounded by green _and_ warmth, a perfect infusion of Forks into California, the home of my dreams, and more at peace than I had been in years, with my legs propped in Treward's lap and a myriad of brightly colored, plastic bowls scattered across the patch of squared grass we had flattened for our meal.

I yawned, arms reaching above my head.

"So, what maid do I need to hit up for cooking lessons? That chicken salad kicked ass."

Treward laughed, the sound lazy as it drifted around my ears in the sunshine filtering through the weeds and cattails.

"You don't think I could have made everything?"

I wanted to lift my head in disbelief, but that took too much effort.

"Yeah, right, because you could _ever_ cook."

I remembered Elizabeth, Edward's step-mother, and her incredulous face as she stared at the charred rice-a-roni in the pot.

Heavy, awkward silence filled the sun-drenched air. I ran back over my last words.

_Fuck_.

"I mean, it's not like I saw many people in your family cooking the other night." I tried to shrug my comment off nonchalantly, but Treward's face was suddenly in the corner of my vision, his head tilted sideways like a pup.

"What do you mean?"

I pushed myself up on my elbows, forcing the panic from my mind. _Good timing, Bella …_

"Come on, it's not like there weren't at least ten people _not_ at the dinner table the one time I've eaten at your house." I raised an eyebrow, and Treward brushed the hair from my shoulder, his finger catching on a strand. "I mean, who cooked your meals your entire life, you?"

"My mom," he smiled, crossing his legs. "You think we always live that way?" he chuckled. "My parents just like to show face when we have large dinner parties. Besides, trying to cook for more than five people would be too much for Mom."

_Mom_ hit me dead in the chest.

"Oh." We drifted into silence again. I watched Treward begin to braid a few strands of grass, mesmerized by the motion, when a rush of air blew my hair into my face, followed by a soft snort. Brown flickered in the corner of my eye, and something wet and soft nudged my cheek.

I screamed and vaulted forward.

Treward laughed behind me.

"What the hell!"

"It's just Stella." He stood lithely to his feet, shoving the braided strand in his pocket and making a clicking noise with his tongue. "Hey girl."

I brushed frayed strands back from my face and peeked up just in time to see Treward running his hands gently over the mane of a huge mare, her stiff hair glistening in the sunlight. She whinnied a bit, heavy-lidded eyes flickering over to me and then back to Treward, her nose shoving against his arm.

"I know what you want, greedy horse." Reaching down, he speared the rest of our leftover carrots and held them out to her on a flat palm. Her lips pulled back over her teeth and she chomped at the sticks in his hand, obviously careful not to nip his skin.

I sat and stared.

Treward glanced at me and laughed again.

"You look like you've never seen a horse before." I didn't move. His eyes widened. "You've never seen a horse before?"

"Not one that wasn't on a screen." My words came out in a murmur.

It was just so _big_.

Her back was easily even with Treward's shoulder, her head at least a good six inches higher than his. Her light tan coat was mottled with white spots, some larger than others, and her mane was a deep charcoal to match the black lips and blackish-brown muzzle which spread to tan at her cheeks and forehead.

"Well, why don't you come say hello?" His hand was in front of me. He wanted me to … _touch_ it?

_Balls up, Bella._

"Okay." I grabbed one crutch and stood hesitantly, trying to dust off my jeans, but Treward grabbed my wrist and pulled it to the horse's muzzle before I had a chance, placing it directly between her eyes.

"Good girl, Stella," he murmured behind me, gently tugging me to his side. I was surprised at the granular softness of the thick hair. Stella pawed the ground, her nose lifting slightly at my touch.

"Come here."

His lips were at my ear, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist, and the hair along my neck rose, slowly sparking nerves crawling up my hairline. His arm tugged me backwards while his hand fell over mine, guiding our joined fingers around Stella's ear, down her thick, tousled mane, and onto the coarser hair riding along her speckled back. He paused at a dip right before the rise of her hip bone.

"Now scratch."

He grinned. I raised an eyebrow, but began to move my nails methodically against the heavy skin. Immediately, Stella shook her giant head at me and her right back foot stomped, crushing the grass and coming within a few inches of my foot. I squealed and leapt backwards, right into Treward's laughing embrace.

I glared at him, but Stella's head moved backwards, nudging me in the shoulder and further into Treward's arms with a soft whinny.

"Good girl," he whispered, pulling me a little tighter before letting me go. My heart was pounding in my chest. I stumble-crutched back to the blanket, laughing and landing on my rear much less gracefully than intended, thanks to the scheming horse and deviously charming man. My nerves were winding tiny loops and figure eights all over my body.

After one last pat for Stella, Treward joined me, grinning unrepentantly, and began to pack up the mostly empty dishes. Stella moved down to the lake for a drink.

I caught my breath and stared at the thin scars littering his hands.

"Are you okay?"

Treward's long limbs had stilled; the wicker basket sat on the edge of the blanket, completely packed.

I blinked.

"Hmm?"

He laughed, crossing the short distance between us.

"You seem a little … out of it."

My mouth nearly fell open.

"Me?" I gestured widely to the horse still lapping water from the lake. "What – where did that come from?"

"What, Stella?" I simply stared at him. Treward laughed again. "Stella is Esme's horse. The Bonomo's live a few acres over. They board Stella and my horse, Brantley, in their stables." He swiped at my arm, moving closer. "Mrs. Bonomo is also the one to thank for the kick ass chicken salad, by the way."

"Ha!" I slapped the ground. "I _knew_ you didn't make it!"

Treward snorted. "That sure, huh?"

"Damn straight." I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck out my tongue.

He shook his head. "You're so cute, Bella."

_Well … fuck._

The butterflies started again, a worming happiness which began in the pit of my stomach and blossomed outward, stretching into my shoulders when he wrapped his arm around them and pulled me close. I let myself go, my head falling backwards while tiny alarms and bells began to ring in my mind, insisting I keep my distance.

Their noise went silent when my head landed on his chest. His chin nestled into my hair.

"Thank you."

x0x0x0x0x0x

It was the end of November when Emmett cracked.

Friday had flowed into Friday, days of stolen minutes and secret hours, time Edward and I could thieve without notice, or at least what we thought went unnoticed.

Weeks passed, friends and family unhindered by our secret words, and yet it seemed as if those moments were the only reality. The silent words and steady touches, curled into his chest or his knees, his hands in my hair or on my feet, they were what was true, interspersed with the mundane monotony of work, home, meals, and friends.

I vaguely knew what was going on outside of my own foolishly constructed, Edward-centered world. Jasper had practically moved in, receiving his own house key, while Emmett was on his way out, spending infrequent nights at home and only checking in, it seemed, to make sure I wasn't sinking back into the world of the walking dead. Of course, I knew more than I would say about Emmett's unwillingness to be anywhere near the apartment, but it wasn't something I really considered in the midst of my blissfully ignorant fantasy land.

I learned through bits of conversation that Emmett was trying to convince any university in the metro-Atlanta area he needed a job. Alice confided that Rosalie had removed herself from her family's embrace and forged out on her own. The Whiskey Chasers finished recording and began to work on the final production of their first album, no small thanks to the article in Spin last month. And through it all, I remained, a silent background to my best friend's lives, existing in an enchanted unreality, all my own.

Now, looking back, I can see every choice, every decision to bury my head in the flickering coals and save the pain and heartache for later – the blame and denial, the ripping and shredding, all the injuries my complacency would never see coming. It was never him and always me, acting on what I longed to be real. But none of it _was_ real.

And I got comfortable.

It was Friday, November 26th, 2010, when the first crack appeared in the walls of my city of delusion.

I woke to the smell of coffee drifting through the apartment. The unusualness of this should have been my first clue, but instead of thinking that these out of the ordinary occurrences were a sign of something to come, I chose to remain firmly rooted in my river of denial and believe that Alice had simply stayed home instead of leaving early to oversee her huge design project in Athens like she had every other morning for two weeks running.

I slipped on my sweats and neatly bounded down the stairs. As much as you can bound on one crutch, at least.

It was Friday.

Friday meant afternoons spent in Edward's arms, his laughter on my ears and his presence soothing mine, swept up in the essence that was my best friend.

"Morning, Alice!" I chirped at the figure sitting at the kitchen table as I shot into the kitchen,

I was so wrapped up in anticipation that the musical, Southern-tinged voice which greeted my ears nearly caused me to drop my coffee cup.

"Good morning, Bella."

As it was, I spilled the sugar. My entire body froze.

"Why don't you finish making your coffee and come join me?" Bristled nails tapped on ceramic. "I know you have to get to work. I promise, I won't take up too much of your time."

Coffee?

To hell with coffee.

The fact she even thought I could ingest _anything_ with her sitting at my kitchen table showed she thought I could handle more than I really could. Wrapping a firm hand around the mug, I turned and stepped towards the table.

Her ice blue eyes watched. White-blonde hair hung pleated in a loose French braid, a dark gray business suit highlighting the pale pink blouse and heels dripping gracefully off of her lithe, polished frame.

Rosalie Hale may not have been Southern royalty any longer, but she was still business incarnate.

Her features relaxed after I had taken a seat – clear across the table. She smiled ruefully, glancing down.

"I know how this must look …" she trailed off.

I stared at her incredulously. "I'm not sure you really do."

The rueful smile was fixed on her pale red lips.

"I know everything, Bella."

My heart ceased to beat. Four simple words, whispered for my ears only, and I was cringing as though she had shouted them at the top of her lungs, plastering my secrets on a billboard for all to see. I choked, unable to swallow.

"H-how?"

"Emmett. Poor thing, broke down a few days ago and spilled the entire story. Honestly, I'm rather impressed he kept it to himself for this long, but he knew … he had to tell someone, or he might have broken entirely." She glanced away, and I almost swore I saw hints of liquid pooling behind her lashes.

_The Ice Queen really _does_ melt … damnit, Em …_

A strangled noise, that I guess came from my throat, brought her back to face me. The remorseful, smiling mask was back in place.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to spread your secret … yet." She leaned on her hand, elbow propped on the table and head cocked sideways almost quizzically. "You know, after a few days of coming to terms with what might possibly be the most bizarrely shocking news any daytime drama could spin, I think I've almost forgiven you." Her hand dropped back to the table, restless. "I can't blame you for your reactions … although it would have been _nice_ to see a little more control, even though you _are_ a Northerner." Her eyes rolled then, before finally landing on my still-stunned face.

I hadn't yet regained control of my faculties.

"But I _will_ blame you, Isabella Marie Swan, if you so much as _chance_ to injure Trevor's heart in the middle of this twisted ball of shenanigans you're running. I know you're respecting Esme's wishes, but he _deserves_ to know the truth, and if you all won't tell him," her nails tapped once along her own coffee mug, "I swear on the grave of every ancestor buried in the state of Georgia, I _will_."

Her features turned fierce, protective; her words cut through my spine and I was too paralyzed to rebut her. I knew the threat practically rolling from her body was as real as the steaming coffee mug cradled between my motionless hands

I was wrong. I knew I had been wrong, and I had carried on.

Rosalie stood from the table and emptied her coffee cup into the sink. She stared at her hands, resting on the glinting surface of the polished stainless steel, before her eyes met mine once again.

"Don't break him, Bella. He's stronger than he seems, and those memories, they're right under the surface, teetering on the edge. It won't take much to push him over. Just don't break him with them." The smile returned, sad now, and carrying almost all the way to her bright, soft eyes. "My love would never have been enough. But I think yours can be."

She turned towards the door.

"I know you love him as more than a friend. Love him the right way, Bella."

Her words threw my mind into overdrive.

"Wait, I – Trevor – Edw – he's just my friend!" I shook my head furiously, tangled brown locks flowering around my face. "I mean, I care about him, of course, how could I not! But I'm not – I'm not – _in_ love with him, and he's _not_ in love with me, I – I just – he – and we –"

She stopped in the doorway, one hand against the frame, and chuckled.

"If you truly believe that, Bella … you're in more denial than I thought you were." An amused sigh followed her words. "Maybe you two are perfect for each other."

Then she was gone as magically as she had appeared, leaving behind a wake which successfully tapped the tiniest crack in my armor.

After the crack, time began to move to the beat of a chaos clock, solid memories punctuated by slips of incoherency. My mind drifted, bled and cried, and every moment with Edward seemed more stolen than ever.

I weighed him. The casual caresses, the hair brushed from my shoulder, palm trailing across my forearm, fingers sliding across my wrist and running the line into the crook of my elbow, each was nothing more than what it had been before our lives were torn apart. I told myself that time was merely falling back into place. Fate had finally found the path we were meant to tread, the interwoven lines our existence inevitably traced.

I had convinced myself so well that, two weeks later, when I woke to a boulder resting in my stomach, it was almost as non-existent as my denial. An icy chill had woven its tendrils around the air in my room, as oppressively overcast as the thick gray clouds hanging in the horizon which greeted my sleep-laden eyes.

Something was nearly not right.

Glasses clinked in the kitchen, obvious ministrations of Alice as she readied herself for work. My nose was sore; the frigid temperatures I inhaled while sleeping had stripped the skin inside raw. My entire body felt heavier, more insistent that I stay in bed and avoid the darkening world spread out in the tiny glimpse through my open window. But it was Friday.

Today was Edward's day.

I pulled myself into the shower, the scalding water stinging my skin a rose pink, but before I realized, it had faded to a lukewarm pulse, barely enough heat to bathe in. My thoughts were scattered, intangible, and intervening in everything. After toweling my hair dry, I pulled on jeans, a beige Cade tunic, and my favorite ballet flats.

My hands ghosted over my jewelry box, grabbing a few random matching pieces, before finally landing on the locket. My locket.

I picked it up, running my thumb across the smooth surface. I hadn't worn it since that night.

It was time.

I wasn't sure how, or why, but I knew. My chaos clock had sped its hands.

The clasp was hooked, my coffee in my hand and trench across my shoulders, and I was at work, delivered a la Alice, pacing the minutes until four that afternoon.

When the clock finally ticked down, I was gone, my purse hooked on my elbow and my heart in my throat, lacy flats carrying me through the halls and onto the sidewalk. My breath leaked from me in expectant flutters, small clouds of heated exchange hanging before dissolving into my hopeful eyes. My hands clutched at the sides of my coat, battling against the cold fighting to freeze my skin, when I saw him.

And my world was right again.

I pushed up on my one crutch, waving to flag him down, and we were gone.

Four hours later, the boulder in my stomach and ice on my heart were the distant memories of some other woman. While the now full-on winter hadn't even considered releasing its grasp, if you'd have asked me in that moment, I wouldn't have known what season it was.

Or completely given a fuck if hell was released and the world froze over.

_My_ world was right.

A grilled cheese sandwich left me comfortably full, and my toes were nearly curled into my feet, the rest of me coiled into a ball in between Edward's legs with my head against one knee and my legs underneath the other. Soft chords on an uneven melody floated around me, plucked from the guitar resting on Edward's thighs by his long, calloused, nimble fingers.

A roaring fire crackled behind us, infusing the air with wood smoke, clouding my mind with an incense-like haze. The thick carpet beneath us swirled with gold and red, and my heavy-lidded eyes followed my fingers around and through the circular patterns, mesmerized into a catatonic stupor.

I looked over, rolling my head sideways, when I realized he had stopped playing. His eyes were fixed on me, roaming my face. Heat burned up my neck. The fireplace must have been hotter than I realized.

I swallowed.

"You okay?"

He tilted his head, that inquisitive look I knew so well, the puppy-eyes which shot straight to the heart of any woman's weakness. Crackling firelight glinted off the thin white lines stretched across his face, cutting through his eyebrow and littering his hands.

"What are we doing, Bella?"

My heart froze, body stiffening. A faint ticking echoed in my head.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and shifted under me. The guitar clacked a little as he laid it on the table.

"I just …" he trailed off, and my eyes slid shut. "Bella." He paused, sighed again. "Please look at me."

Time drifted. The ticking got louder. I shifted to face him and lifted my lids.

The breath was sucked from my lungs. Edward was staring at me, eyes pleading, inches from my face, and I was lost in the depth of their longing, the intensity of the swirled gold-flecked green.

"Where do you want to go with this?" His hand brushed my ear, fingered the ends of my hair. "What do you want from me? From us?" His forehead creased, the line parting his eyebrow wrinkling behind the brown-red hair falling over his eyes. "Are we an 'us'? Do we make this an 'us'?"

I was surprised I managed more than a stutter.

"I-I but – our friends – Alice … Emmett … we're just –"

"They _know_, Bella." His smile was soft, like the hand moving to cup my cheek, smoothing against the side of my mouth. "They aren't blind. They've all known for a while." He pulled me up straight, my back against his leg. "Now _I_ need to know." His lips grazed the tip of my nose, his hand brushing the skin between my shirt and jeans.

"I – I don't … Edward –"

His lips were on mine.

I breathed in, unmoving, as his tongue traced the line of my lip, hints of cinnamon and honey, warm sweetness drifting over my senses in waves which mingled with smoke and heat. His hand brushed my cheek, thumb stroking my temple as he pulled away.

I was panting.

"Edward …"

He kissed me again, deeper this time, one hand still on my face, the other moving to my forearm. I froze again, lost in sense and seconds. The hands of the clock pounded in my head until he released me, his breath unsteady.

I opened my mouth to protest, growing unrest meshing with unknown desire, fear spiking panic. His finger pressed against my lips, rough satin, smelling of soap and man, tasting purely of _him_.

"Don't … please, Bella, I don't know who he is, this mystery." Forehead to forehead, hidden confessions of prayer drawing streams of liquid pain and desperation. "First love, only love, I don't _care_ who he is," his lips claimed mine, pressing roughly while he began to gather me to him, "I want to erase his name from your mouth."

I choked on a laugh while he kissed my forehead, my nose, my temple, and my eyes, wiping my tears with his thumb. His arms were around me, pulling me in, his head buried in my neck, lips pressed to my collarbone, tracing the curve of my throat, dipping behind my ear. I inhaled, nearly smothered by the same tastes as before – soap and skin, smoke and cinnamon, which seemed to cling to his skin, an unrepentant spice.

His lips found mine then, and this time I moved. I couldn't not; the response was nearly instant.

Tangible electric impulses raced, sparking nerves in sequential order. His hand spread along my back, warmth and touch, tracing my spine and tucking beneath my bra before sliding along its line, his thumb brushing the side of my breast.

It was the tightening beneath my stomach, lower than ever, twisting my insides into a throbbing quick pain, which sent shivers through the nerves that were still responsive.

_Edward …_

Slipping my hand into his hair, I threaded a few strands in my fingers, the soft, dense locks brushing electricity through my hand. My lips opened, taking him in, breathing through the pleasure, pressing his other hand against my hip.

Until my palm lay flat on his head – directly against a raised line, the length of my hand and greater. A scar, twisted and round, was the evidence of my betrayal, of my deceit and denial.

_Not Edward. Trevor_.

I pushed away, breaking our lips and forcing his hands from my skin, but holding close, unable to leave the sphere of his presence. The hands of the clock ticked forward.

His words pressed against my ear.

"I want to erase his memory for you. I love you, Bella."

My heart dropped, frozen, terrified. I nearly cackled, stomach tight, chaotic order pounding seconds of anarchy on the clock in my head.

_You would erase _yourself_, Trevor?_

He jerked away, eyes wide, confused, scared. All at once.

_Shit fuck …_

I said it out loud.

The tears fell harder.

"What –" His eyes hardened, his thumbs reaching up to brush my cheek again. "I don't care. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out. I love you."

I shoved his hand, stumbling backward onto my palms, pulling away.

"No, you don't." I was nearly blind with tears; the words came out on a sob.

"What … Bella, why?"

"I know you, please, just believe me. You don't."

"I-I just – Bella, what's wrong? And who the hell are you to tell me what I feel?"

It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt, like ripping my heart from my body and placing it in front of me, the words clogged in my throat like balls of smoke and paper, ripping it raw.

I was _feeling_, heart beating hope and care and faith.

I wasn't _allowed_ to feel. That only brought in more pain. Like now.

It had to end. He couldn't love _me_, not truly, because he didn't know me. He couldn't know me, because …

"You don't even know _yourself_."

"What?"

I curled inward, arms across my chest, aching to hold in the beating heart which spilled from my bones.

_Please … remember me._

"You aren't _you_. You are _not_ Trevor Cullen." I watched him back away, the fear eating away at the confusion, anger following close behind. But I was on a roll. There was no stopping me now.

"Trevor Cullen is dead. You aren't. They've been lying to you; for nine years they've lied and you can't love me. You can't love me because you aren't _you_. You _are_ Edward, and you're not him." I was sobbing, shaky gasps and hiccups as I sat, rocking, curling further in on myself, unable to meet his eyes. "You can't love me if you don't even know why … if you can't understand … I can't live –"

"You're lying."

My eyes sprang to his face. All traces of confusion and fear were gone, leaving stricken rage.

"You're lying. You don't know who I am, you're just … you've been using me." Understanding dawned, wrong assumptions providing him the clarity he thought he needed, replacing the potentially crumbling pieces of the illusion he lived. "It's him."His eyes hardened. "There's something there, a similarity, a memory – I don't know, a whatever, but you've got yourself so content to just use me in the place of someone you _can't have_ anymore."

"No – no – I swear, just … ask Esme. Please, talk to your parents, they'll –"

"No. I don't believe you." They were quiet, firm words, but they were there. Resting between us, in the middle of the shitstorm.

My tears ceased. My heart cried, my chest aching, pain radiating to my fingertips, words caught in my throat, trapped beneath my tongue. He could never love me. He didn't know me.

"It's the truth." They were bland, toneless, a pure reflection of the pain throbbing through, the numbness spreading through my system. "You won't believe me. So you can't love me. No one can."

"But I do. Please don't lie to me, Bella."

Standing to my feet, I hobbled to my crutch and then towards the door.

"I'm not lying. Not about you. Please don't come back, Trevor. I don't want to see you again."

I stepped through the entry way, slowly crumbling inside. I couldn't go home. Not like this. I would never make it past Alice and there was no way I was talking. And now that I thought about it, I wasn't even sure _how_ I would get home. I could drive relatively well, as my ankle was mostly healed, but my car was at my apartment.

I stopped in the entryway, nearly broken and nearly determined to walk, when a soft, unspoken touch on my shoulder stopped me. I tensed, but the hand that slid into mine was not masculine.

The thin, manicured fingers squeezed tightly before letting go, a sad, stricken smile and watery eyes behind her thick, chestnut hair.

Esme.

"Go there. Stay as long as you need." Her lips shook when she paused, breathing in to steady herself. "I'm sorry. This … it's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

I nodded, unable to watch the few tears slip down her cheek, and left.

A slim, sleek BMW 3 series sat in the round-about. I opened my hand. Two keys and a slip of paper with an address rested there. I recognized the city.

She was sending me to their summer home.

Numb against the ever deepening cold, I slid into the car, started the engine, programmed the address into the onboard navigation, and sped away into the night. My clock was chiming midnight. Time for Cinderella to put aside her fantasies, find her reality, and go back to who she had always been.

My Prince Charming was dead.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: Wash It Down On Me

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Wash Away" as performed by Matt Costa, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** A HUGE thank you to my amazing beta, **clarabella75** for her sheer astoundingness. She got this chapter back to me in less than 24 hours ... WITH school and work and children. Huzzah to you, because you are EPIC. :D

To my pre-reader and wifey, **puppymama0909**, my heart is torn and bruised that you don't have internet, but at least we still have phones. :P Thank you for everything you do, calling me after each chapter just to encourage me to write what I know is truth. Even if I'm afraid of the pitchforks. XOXO

To **ThisGuiltyBlood**, who is one of the most awesome women I know - HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL! This updated is dedicated to you, on your day of birth, because it was just one of those oh so special days. :)

To every one of my girls at FFA, the list is growing MUCH too big to name, but I guess I'll try - **Mezz, Feral, Beibs, Kd, Ali, Lisa, Riri, Twilightsonefan Pattinson, Jay, Rebadams, and so many others I know I may be forgetting or don't know are out there - I could never say enough to you. If I could meet you all, you'd be shoving me off, cause I'd be humping your leg in gratitude. :D**

For those who love music, "**Wash Away**" by **Matt Costa** is inspirational and haunting, the perfect setting for this chapter. Check out the link on my profile if you want to hear it.**  
**

So grab a (insert favorite beverage here), a box of tissues, and settle in. This rollercoaster has nearly run its course.

And now, as always, with no further gilding the lily, I wish you happy reading.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen:  
Wash It Down On Me**

_Float down stream, rivers of dreams; float down stream, catch your wings  
Heaven's high, so you fly, catch your dreams in the sky.  
But the glaciers have frozen your feet.  
I can't wait for eternity, and so you watched me wash away. _

_But maybe we'll catch up someday._

_Sun, it sinks out of view. Stars, they shine, changing hue.  
But bright lights have blinded your sights.  
They can't adjust when day turns to night.  
The castles we built were so tall. They only left us further to fall.  
And still I see them far away.  
_

_But maybe we'll come back someday._

"Wash Away" – Matt Costa

x0x0x0x0x0x

The stars outnumbered my tears.

At least, they would have if I could've seen them all. Counting them had become numbing enough, but soon they began to slip behind the clouds again. There were just so many, out here beyond the lights … beyond the words I had released from the prison where they should have remained.

It was true; I had run. I had disappeared like a little girl – in fact, it was more like the petrified, impetuous, temperamental little girl I hadn't been in nine years. Now I couldn't get her spunky ass back behind the door.

I pulled the thick quilt tighter around my shoulders and adjusted my legs. The grass crunched beneath me. It was two weeks to the holiday season, and even in the city the temperature had plunged dramatically, drawing maybe whispers of a white Christmas. Here, forty-five minutes into the North Georgia mountains, the air was practically frigid – the same temperature as a mild winter night in Forks – but somehow it dug deeper, plunged sharper into your lungs.

It wasn't anything I couldn't handle.

Honestly, in between my heated skin and shuddering tears, the cold was achingly refreshing. Little clouds of condensation gathered around my mouth and dissolved as I breathed, steady. Time had slipped by after its explosion, and the moon was now covered completely with heavy, low clouds. I couldn't have guessed the hour if I'd wanted to.

I didn't.

The drive here had been the chaotic dénouement of my epic word vomit, of the fucked up situation I couldn't even begin to process. So when I arrived, I found the stars. My ocean was calm, as calm as the placid water spread out, a dark horizontal plane evidenced only by its quiet lap against the shore. The grass was brown, frostbitten to death, and as numb as my mind.

But its peace was undeniable.

Part of me wanted to bury my head in my hands, sob, laugh, and weep at my stupidity, at the signs hanging everywhere, the denial of bound souls.

He would never remember.

And I had condemned myself to love the unattainable – so that I would never be hurt.

Now, I would be forced to leave, to abandon the life I had built … around him. The recognition was a slap in the face, cold as the sudden snowflake melting on my nose. Another dropped to my cheek.

I didn't wipe them away.

I didn't have a 'life' built here … I didn't have a life built _anywhere_.

Forks was too painful; living there had never been an option for me. Even if Edward wasn't truly dead, what made him Edward _was_, and my father's resting place was still a cold granite stone in my memory.

California had been sun and eternal summers, rich heat and burnt skin, lazy days with Alice and the fickle carelessness of the collegiate sorority girl.

Atlanta had been the next stop on my search, but while I had every ingredient necessary to create the perfect apple pie, I had ignored the apples and just dumped in the sugar. Now my apples were being enjoyed without me, and they were perfectly tasty outside of my pie.

I had abandoned my friends. I couldn't imagine why they would care about me now.

A thin layer of snow blanketed the earth around me. A small pile rested in my palm, and I brushed the white from my shoulders, shaking my head lightly, when I heard it.

_Izzy_.

The voice trembled, the one word quiet and reverent.

My heart beat twice and paused, thickly painful. I closed my eyes, certain it had drifted in on the wind. I was summoning hallucinations now.

_Izzy … I'm sorry_.

"Go away." I could feel the tears, burning heat rimming my eyes. I couldn't take this. Why would he come to me _now_? "Please, just let me _go_."

_Izzy_ _..._

"I don't _want_ you anymore! And don't call me that!"

"Isabella … Bella … I'll call you whatever you want."

I stood and spun, limping a bit and sweeping snow with the quilt. It flared around my shoulders, throwing up a swirl of white. Trevor stood in front of me, five feet away, his hands lowered to his waist.

Rage burned through the numbness, red flickering in my brain.

"Can I not even get _one_ of my requests? I thought I asked you to _stay away_!"

"Bella, I need – please, you have to let me – I'm sorry, I –"

"No. No, you don't _get_ to say you're sorry." The words would burn my tongue to ashes. But he needed to leave, _now_, or I would never maintain my sanity. "You ignored me; you blamed me; you truly believe I've been manipulating you, using you to feed some kind of _sick_ _fantasy_ I could never recreate with _you_."

I would never mention the truth in my own words, the drifting right in all the wrong.

He stepped closer, a few paces at a time, pain flooding his eyes and washing in waves over his body.

"What would you _expect _me to do? Bella, you sat in front of me, hysterical, and told me my entire life was a lie!"

"And you said you _loved _me?" My voice was a pitch higher, my chest heaving. I was nearly hysterical. "You're supposed to _trust_ the ones you love, if you even know what love is!"

He flinched, taking another step forward.

"Bella, please … you should listen to him."

This voice was different – sad, soft, feminine, and so very distinctly Alice. Her small form materialized in the midst of the thickly falling snow, a few feet behind Trevor. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her tan pea coat, her eyes subdued. She stopped as soon as she knew I could see her. I gaped.

"Alice, what – why – no." Rage swelled again, erasing my shock. "You have _no right_ to be here, in the middle of this. You have no _idea_ what's going on and, contrary to your obvious disillusionment, you really _don't _have to meddle in everyone else's lives! Sometimes, some people just like to be _left alone_ and not ridiculed by a relentless _gossip_."

Hurt and irritation flickered in her eyes, but her jaw clenched shut.

My locket pulled at my neck. I'd forgotten I was wearing it.

I looked down to find his fingers wrapped around the long chain, his thumb brushing over the encrusted heart. Instant, unsummoned tears spilled forward.

"What are you –"

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Bella." His words were quiet, erasing my own. "I'm so sorry you've suffered for so long … but now, it's okay." He flipped the pendant in his palm, reaching for my arm.

I flinched away.

In the middle of everything, his eyes still held a soft smile.

"It's going to be okay, I promise. All the names, the mistakes, the memories …" he trailed off, voice gentle, and I stemmed the pain rising into my throat, choking on angry words. "It's alright, because," he paused and met my eyes, "I love you, and I rem –"

"No," I shoved him backwards, unable to hear the lies. He couldn't love me, didn't respect me enough to give me the time I needed. "Please … just go." I glanced at Alice, her lips pursed. "Both of you. Just … give me time." The tears slowed, aching drops of liquid pleading. They left me nearly vibrating with the need to simply be _alone_. "I need time … and space." I sniffled and shuffled my feet in the mounting snow. "Can't you give me a weekend? Please?"

The locket landed against my chest with a thump that echoed into my lungs. Trevor stepped backwards, placing a few feet between us.

"Okay." His hands slid into his pockets, as if he was physically restraining himself from touching me.

Oxygen shuddered through my lungs. The air was so frosty, it hurt to breathe. One hand came out towards me before it fisted and fell back to his side.

"But you have to give me something."

I hesitated. He didn't wait for my assent.

"Go inside, please. Get warm before you end up frostbitten." A muscle twitched in his jaw. He wanted to say more.

Instead of nodding, I limped past him towards the house, surprised that I could hardly feel my healing ankle or my feet inside of my flats. I stopped at the door and turned, throwing snow off of the quilt tucked around my shoulders. Trevor and Alice jolted to a halt only a foot or two behind me.

"I'm going inside now." I tried to glare, but it withered, my anger just flickering coals. The tears were barely contained, and I wouldn't cry in front of them again. "I can get there by myself." Trevor started to protest. I watched Alice's face, an intricate mixture of annoyance, sorrow, and understanding. "Just go. If you care for me at all, then let me do this. Alone."

I had cut him off, erased his ability to care, but as I turned to the door, his face flickered in the corner of my vision.

He was dejected.

At that moment, I didn't care.

I disappeared inside and walked the few feet to the couch before I collapsed, slow tears streaking my temple, listening for the sounds of their departure. I hadn't realized how much larger the cracks in my heart would become when I heard them.

My arms curled into my stomach and I cocooned myself inside of the thick, heavy quilt on the leather couch. My mind was blank and empty, my throat raw, and the tears wouldn't stop spilling, slowly drifting and wetting the inside of the square patches. I wondered who had stitched the quilt, pouring love into every last bit of thread and cloth.

If only they had known how it would end.

_Edward_ …

I couldn't believe that even now, after everything, my mind still retreated to his arms, to his love.

_"I'm not leaving you Izzy, I promise. I will fight with everything I have to stay right by your side."_

_"Do you promise?"_

_"Isabella Marie Swan, I vow to stay with you for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me."_

_"Edward?"_

_"Hmm." _

_"I love you."_

_"I love you too, Izzy."_

"Isabella …"

The touch was too soft, tugging at the blankets around my face, beneath my body.

"Isabella, dear, you need to wake up."

The voice was feminine and smoothly alluring, like butter and syrup over perfectly browned pancakes. Warm fingertips met the side of my cheek. Grimacing, I opened my eyes and rolled my arm outward, freeing myself from my cocoon. Frigid air hit my exposed skin. I jerked the quilt back around me and looked up.

"There you are, Isabella. Everyone's been so worried about you."

The older woman was elegant, her long, thick brown hair pulled into a swift bun at the nap of her gracefully arched neck, while wisps of escaping locks flared around her shoulders and behind her ears. She stepped back as I sat upright.

"Okay, that's nice … um, who's everyone? And, no offense, but, who are you?"

Thick sunlight poured in from the window behind her, cutting through the blinds, bouncing off of a heavy, white layer of snow. She smiled with an edge of sadness.

"I'm the Cullens' neighbor, dear, Mrs. Bonomo."

I nodded slowly and stretched as one piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

"Okay. Well, since you obviously seem to know who I am, I can assume you know why I'm here." I lifted an eyebrow. "Can I ask why you're here?"

Her expression dropped further, and I recognized the tale tell sign of a mask sliding upwards. Wiping her palms on her jeans, she lifted an eyebrow.

"Why don't you go use the restroom, wake up a bit, and meet me in the kitchen. I'll fix you a cup of coffee."

I wanted to protest, but the scent of roasted coffee beans and the urgent need to empty an excessively overfull bladder smacked me dead in the face simultaneously.

Oh _God_, when was the last time I had peed?

"Okay," I quickly agreed, springing from the couch and limping towards the downstairs restroom. Five minutes later, after I had peed for at least three of the minutes, quickly rinsed my face, and gargled with what I could find, I ran my fingers through my impossible hair and followed the scent of heaven.

A steaming mug sat on the counter, a glass jug of milk and a stainless steel container of sugar resting beside it. Mrs. Bonomo had her own mug in her hands, her sheer, white flared sleeves hanging by her sides as she watched me.

I fixed my coffee in silence, sat at the kitchen table, and inhaled half of the mug before breaking the silence.

"Okay, I've washed up, I've had some caffeine, now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

Her mug clattered on the granite countertop. Her thick, full lips were pressed tightly together. If it weren't for her 'come-fuck-me' glasses, I'd say this woman was almost more motherly than Esme. The look on her face made me never want to disappoint her if it were in my power to do so.

"You're not allowed to panic, Isabella. And you're also not allowed to leave unless you are calm, by strict order of Carlisle and Esme."

My eyebrows shot up as my pulse began to race. I opened my mouth in protest before the look on her face shut me up. Quickly.

"Don't think of arguing. I have your keys." She patted her hip pocket.

Dread hit me full force in the chest, dragging its aching claws down my spine and latching into my stomach. I didn't speak.

"Okay … Isabella …" she paused, swallowed, and then hit me with the words I swore I never thought I'd hear again.

"There's been an accident."

Past collided with present; I heard my mother's voice, mingling with the woman in front of me and awash with the acrid scent of loss, defeat, and a hurricane of guilt. I nearly vomited.

She continued.

"Now look, as soon as you're able, you can drive back to town, and if you need us to, my husband and I will be more than happy to take you –"

"How bad?" A whisper was the most I could force out between clenched teeth, determined to keep the coffee in my stomach. I would be needing the caffeine.

Her eyebrow arched delicately and she stepped toward me, arms extended.

"Bella, it's okay, you don't have to –"

"How. Bad."

"I don't know. They're both at Saint Joseph's. I don't know what happened. Esme just asked me to keep you calm and get you to the hospital as soon as I could."

Her deep brown eyes caught mine, hard and soft at once. It didn't matter. My mind was made up. She couldn't reach me.

"Mrs. Bonomo, may I please have my keys." She watched me pensively. More adrenaline shot through my spine. I was scarily calm. "I promise, I can drive, and I will be fine." Her hand slid into her pocket and stilled. I stared her down. "And unless you'd like to see how well I can hotwire a BMW, I suggest you give me the keys."

Her lips quirked upwards, faintly amused. She placed the keys on the table.

"Thank you." My volume was back to a whisper.

I stood from the table without a word, picked my purse up off the armchair, and pulled out my phone.

Forty eight missed calls.

Sliding it shut, I tossed it back in my purse. I didn't bother to see who had tried to contact me.

"Please be safe, Isabella. The roads should be mostly clear by now, but it's still slick."

I nodded once before grabbing my crutch from beside the door and leaving the house.

The sun glinted off of the snow, a bright and happy white on the surface of the black BMW. It's deep, dark paint more than reflected my mood; it pressed further on the weight in my soul, the heaviness which stiffened my limbs before the adrenaline pumped through and released them.

The sleek sports sedan couldn't go fast enough.

I raced down the highway as soon as I passed through the mountain roads, every mile an excuse for my foot to press down just a little further. The roads were fine, well worn by the early morning traffic and rarely used salt trucks which had gone on high alert as soon as the snow began to fall. Even now, at a little after nine, everything seemed surreal, coated in a layer of white dust.

I was stuck in a snow globe, a glass container which pulled me closer and drew me away, the rising panic clotting up my throat each second, until I finally arrived. I parked and stared up at the huge face of Saint Joseph's Hospital, the towering white concrete building cold and immense.

They weren't there. They couldn't be there. If they were there, it was entirely my fault, for sending them on, for never listening, for never being able to believe what they knew, what they risked their lives to tell me.

I had washed away their words, our past, and let only the present dictate my selfish needs.

Why could I never look beyond my own self?

I looked out the driver's side window, when it hit me. I nearly slammed my head against the glass pane.

I was doing it again.

I was overcomplicating everything, when the only place I should have been was at my best friends' sides, showing them I was there, helping to comfort the family members they'd left in limbo, waiting in the stiff, comfortless plastic and hiding the tears I could feel building in my throat.

I should be crying over their potential loss and pain, not ruminating over my own poor decisions.

I was an idiot.

It was time to learn that the world didn't revolve around me.

Leaving my crutch behind, I limped hurriedly through the piercingly cold air and nearly slammed through the rotating doors of the ER. You would think that a frenzied body flying into a room, swirling with snow and panic, would draw some kind of attention.

Not one head turned my way.

I sighed in frustration and brushed my hair from my eyes, grabbing the first nurse I could find. She eyed me with skeptic indignation.

"Cullen?"

Her eyes softened – a _little_.

"Fifth floor, room 524."

Jerking her arm from my grip, she went on her way.

Scowling, I ambled down a few hallways until I found the closest elevator and stepped inside, pressing five before I could think. My chest was tight, my throat clogged, with my heart echoing in my ears.

It was pure adrenaline that moved my legs from the elevator. Time seemed to move in slow ticks until I saw them.

Esme, her soft auburn hair gathered messily in a high ponytail on her head, a chenille sweater draped over a tight tank top and her thin, trembling shoulders. Her head was down, gathered in her husband's shoulder, whose calm, fixed features were resting on his wife's body.

I nearly collapsed in the doorway.

"Esme?"

Her head lifted at my voice and she shot up from her chair, her arms around me in the space of seconds.

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh hush, Bella."

Her rebuke stung, but I knew it was deserved. This wasn't the time for apologies. It was the time for hope. So instead of replying, I cradled the taller woman in my arms, her head buried in the crook of my neck, each of us drawing comfort as the ones who loved him more than our own existence.

I felt one strong arm wrap around my back. Carlisle had joined our huddle.

A voice drifted across the empty waiting room.

"Hey … dude, it's that Bella girl."

"No way."

"Yes it is, I swear!"

Working my face out of the huddle, I glanced a few chairs over only to lay eyes on the two biggest morons I had ever had the pleasure of working with.

"Hey guys."

Ricky and Marshall, the two other members of the Whiskey Chasers, waved a little, their hands dropping back to their lap amidst a chorus of 'heys'.

Esme lifted her head from my chest and gripped my fingers, pulling me back towards the waiting room chairs. She never let go of my hand.

"Emmett and Rose just went down to the cafeteria for coffee," she nodded, as if reassuring herself, her dark green eyes blotched and blurry. "Jasper and the Brandons are upstairs, in the ICU."

My mouth fell open.

"Is she –" I croaked. Esme briskly shook her head.

"We don't know yet." Tears gathered beneath her eyes, barely falling before she efficiently stripped them away. "She was in surgery for eight hours. Her condition hasn't stabilized."

I attempted to swallow, but everything stuck in my throat. I felt like vomiting.

"And –"

"He's stable, but in serious condition." Carlisle's voice was strong and supple behind me, smooth and heartbroken as torn silk. "He went into cardiac arrest during the surgery to remove the tree limb from his shoulder; however, his heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, and respiration have normalized over the past two hours. He's being moved from ICU to a private room on this floor, by my request."

My mind raced, struggling to process all of the information so caustically released upon me by the man I'd forgotten was a doctor at this very hospital. He had obviously shifted into doctor-mode in order to deal with the trauma, so very similar to his own past.

I, on the other hand, was reeling.

_A fucking _tree _branch?_

My mouth was thick and dry. I convulsed, close to retching.

"Carlisle," Esme hissed behind me. Her soft hands ran along my hairline. "It's okay, Bella. He's stable, he's going to be okay." Her forehead rested against my temple, her words a breath against my earlobe. "We have to believe that, no matter what."

I nodded and sat back, attempting to swallow, when Em and Rose rounded the corner.

"Izzy!" I was in Emmett's arms in seconds, off of the ground and wrapped around his neck, sucking in gulps of air. "Christ, Izzy, I thought you were dead too! Where have you been?"

"No, Em, I'm fine, I'm here." I sighed. "It's a long story."

I didn't mention the nickname.

Then my feet were on the ground, but Emmett's arm remained around my shoulders, pushing me back to my seat next to Esme. Rosalie stood to Emmett's right, her expression torn between exhaustion, fear, and … was that _appreciation_?

The hell?

"Shit, if we'd have known you were coming, we would've gotten you some coffee. The fucked up stuff they serve here tastes like whore crotch."

"Emmett!" Rose's hand landed broadside against the back of the giant teddy bear's head. He rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Rosie."

I chuckled. Only Emmett could make me chuckle while I felt on the verge of losing my … coffee. The thought made me nauseous again.

"It's okay, Em. I'm not really sure I could have digested anything right now anyway."

Nodding, Em tucked one arm around me and pulled my head into his shoulder. The chair next to him squeaked when Rosalie sat down.

"If you need to talk, Bella –"

"Dr. Cullen?" A feminine voice interrupted Rosalie. Every head in the waiting room turned. "Your son has been moved into room 524. Two at a time, please." The short, African American nurse handed Carlisle a hospital chart and exited the waiting area.

Carlisle flipped through the pages and glanced at his wife, eyebrow raised. Esme released a deep breath and stood, linking her arm through Carlisle's. My chest clenched so tightly, I couldn't breathe.

I _needed_ to see him, now. But I wasn't his "family". I would have to wait.

Part of me tried to convince myself it was only fair; I _was_ the one who had put both Edward and Alice in this situation. Even if he didn't know who Edward was.

However, the other, much louder part of me screamed that he was _mine_, he would always be mine, and I needed the reassurance he wasn't gone _again._ With every heart beat, I could feel the oxygen leaking from my lungs.

Em and Rose whispered quietly between each other, Em's arm still wrapped snugly around me as I struggled to breathe, to wait. It seemed like an eternity until Esme and Carlisle finally stepped back into the waiting area.

My eyes snapped to Esme's face, her blotched, ruddy cheeks, damp eyes, and drawn expression.

_Fuck._

Whatever waited in that room wasn't pretty.

I clenched my fists, waiting to see who would go next, longing to be sent into that little square space. Carlisle cradled Esme's shaking hands and looked above me, to Emmett.

"Considering the circumstances, Emmett, would you and Bella like to see him now?"

Emmett's voice rumbled in my ear. I felt my entire body turn to steel.

"Thanks, Mr. Cullen, that would be great."

"Carlisle, please. Fifteen minutes, Emmett. Hospital rules."

Emmett stood next to me, but my muscles clenched, unmoving. He raised an eyebrow.

I had to do it. I had never had this reconciliation before, never seen what I needed to know. I had helped to cause this problem; I could deal with the consequences.

Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, through my bunched, twisted joints, and stood to my feet.

Emmett practically carried me towards the door, his big palms shaking lightly beneath my arms. I stared at the wooden surface, listening to the stiff, staccato beats of the monitor and some sort of whooshing noise which echoed faintly into the hallway.

"Em," I whispered, halting in my tracks.

"It's okay, Izzy. I'm here. I'm with you."

I grabbed for his sweaty hand and cradled it in both of mine. He'd never left me yet.

"Open it, please, Emmett."

His other hand reached out and twisted the long handle, pushing the door open.

The room hovered amid light and dim, an in between I couldn't name which left my eyes shocked from the sterile lights of the hospital hallway. The beating rhythm filled my ears, a steady beeping in tune with a hollow thudding which resonated with a rush of wind hitting every other heartbeat.

I was listening to the love of my life _live_.

Emmett and I took five hesitant steps forward, coming around the side of the curtain and into full view of the hospital bed. I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet. I'm still not sure if it was in shock or an unconscious need to escape reality.

My best friend caught me as I nearly collapsed into his arms, knees giving out from beneath me.

"Emmett," I whined, eyes fixed on the ground.

"You're stronger than this, Iz." Em pulled me upwards, straightening my jelly knees. "He needs us. He needs _you_."

My young, teenage mind cried no. I swallowed, feeling around my tongue.

I told her yes.

I stepped to his bedside and wrapped my clammy hands around his.

"Trevor … Edward," my voice cracked. I swallowed. "I'm here. It's Bell – It's Izzy, Edward. I'm here."

I stroked the inside of his wrist, his skin hot and dry, smooth and riddled with a fine mess of clean white scars and raised red scrapes. A tear hit the inside of his palm.

I choked on a sob.

The left side of his face was swollen, disfigured, streaked with two or three long, thin red gashes. One cut straight through the scar on his left eyebrow, leaving an 'x' to rest on the side of his face. A thick, padded stretch of gauze peaked out from his hospital gown, resting a few inches from his heart.

Where the tree tried to steal his life.

_I'm gonna find that mother fucker and make it wish it was never a tree._

The thought was so inane, so sudden, I chuckled with tears dripping down my cheeks.

Wires expanded from every exposed bit of skin; at least five different monitors hummed around the three of us, our lungs expanding with every whoosh of Edward's oxygen respirator. Two thin tubes were taped against his nose, providing him with pure, fresh O2 in an effort to restore his healing limbs.

I couldn't find an inch that wasn't bruised, battered, bashed, cut or torn. If not for the shock of red-brown hair, which was now shaved close to his head to reveal another thick, red gash, and the distinct, aquiline nose, I'm not sure I would have recognized him.

My heart beat double time, rejecting that sentiment.

I would have recognized him anywhere. I knew him from the beginning, and no matter how hard I fought it, it was more than obvious now.

Leaning down, I kissed a bit of forehead that wasn't battle scarred, pressed my cheek against him, working not to scoop his fragile, but still strong looking body into my arms, and whispered my truths to his unconscious mind.

"I love you, Edward. Always have." I sniffed, listening to Emmett's feet shuffle uncomfortably behind me. I didn't care. "Forever and ever, for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me."

I could only pray that would be longer than today.

* * *

*throws glitter and ponies in an attempt to distract you*

No? Damn ... Mezz said that would work. Well ... would a Mini-moment showing the actions of Edward and Esme in between this chapter and last chapter help at all?

I hope so, cause I'll be doing my best to dodge the stones while I send out one with every review. :)


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Refresher Course

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "The Llight" as performed by Sara Bareilles, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **To my ever fantastic **clarabella75**, thank you. :) Even without internet you work to get my words perfect and back to me.

To **This Guilty Blood** and my fantabulous, lovely, ever extraordinary ficwife, **Puppymama0909**, thank you for telling me to go with my gut. I guess it hasn't (mostly) failed me so far. Your encouragement means I feel like I can reach for the sky - and maybe touch it, too.

To **all of my readers**, silent, reviewing, alerting, favoriting, or just plain out sitting there, thank you! Without you, this story would have no eyes, no heart, and no love. You've chosen to hurt ... so I hope you're ready for the love that blossoms from pain.

To anyone who I have hurt, or angered, or saddened, through pure motherly defense or by accident, please accept my whole hearted apology. Without suffering, we would not know the truth of joy. It has hurt me to put you through the pain.

But now, I hope I can begin to heal the hurt.

Much love and happy reading.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen:  
Refresher Course**

_Never mind what I knew, nothing seems to matter now.  
Who I was without you, I can do without.  
No one knows where it ends, how it may come tumbling down.  
_

_But I'm here with you now. I'm with you now.  
_

_And if you say, "It'll be alright"  
I'm gonna trust you, babe  
I'm gonna look in your eyes  
And if you say, "It'll be alright"  
I'll follow you into the light_

"The Light" – Sara Bareilles

x0x0x0x0x0x

I had lost … everything. And it was my fault.

Or was it?

_My feet pounded against the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator. Everyone else had chosen to stay behind, by Edward's side, but I had another pain which was stripping my heart to pieces. I tried to force it into a subtle calm. _

"_Bella." My name was written with the sound of relief, heavy in Jasper's voice. _

_I flew into his arms, forgetting propriety. He held me easily. _

"_How is she?" _

_He shook his head, voice hoarse. _

"_I don't know. She's … still unconscious. She got up caught between the passenger seat and the tree, in what was left of the window." _

Swirls of pungent smoke rose into the silent, supple night air; thin wisps stretching and reaching for the stars, calling into the high places, pushing forward, ineffaceable, hungry for a journey which would crush them, ruthless.

Life. Life was like that – a game no one is meant to win.

_My breath caught in my throat; the nausea rolled in waves over my entire body, physically disabling me. But I overrode my brain and stood straight, for Jasper. I stepped back and stared at him. _

"_Are you okay?" _

_His eyes were red and watered out. He was silent as he studied me. I shifted under his gaze, rubbing my foot against my calf. _

"_Bella … are _you_ okay?" _

_I was confused. _

"_Of course." _

"_Why?" _

It had read my hand, played me for a fool. It was the night of death, with no hope for stars.

I was losing him again, and she was slipping away. And here I was ... I was losing it, and it was my fault. I could do nothing but pity myself, nothing but face the reality of what was slipping through my fingers as easily as sand, scattered by the winds of Fate.

"_What do you mean why? Can't I just be okay?" _

_I didn't know why this conversation was turning in my direction. Jasper's eyes cut across my face. Understanding dawned. _

"_Bella. Your father died." His words sucked my breath away. "Your best friend died. You were abandoned." _

"_Jasper, I –"_

"_Then he came back. Because he didn't die. He was stolen." _

_I flinched backwards, physically stepping away. Jasper advanced, eyes fixed on me. _

"_He yelled at you. He broke your heart. Again." _

_I hit the wall without realizing I had been moving. My hands shook against the cold paint. I forced the tears away. _

"_Now, he's dying." _

_My throat contracted. _

"_Again." _

_I shook my head, my knees weakening. Jasper caught me in one arm and lowered me to the tile floor. His other hand pointed limply towards the ICU. _

"_And so is she." _

Fate ... chance had nothing to do with it. Life, God, Fate … they were all mocking me, mocking my every breath.

_I heaved oxygen, struggling to retain any strand of consciousness as a world of pain crushed my lungs. I was wheezing. _

"_Breathe, Bella." His whispers reached my ears while his hand traveled up my back, lightly fluttering against my spine. "It's okay … just let it out." _

_It was as though he was telling me to _feel_. My heart clenched in fear, lungs struggled with shuddering breaths. Emotions raged through my system – pain, hurt, rejection, dismal disbelief and insane love. But fear pushed forward, reaching for the tips of my tears and pulling them back in, where I couldn't feel again. _

_I sniffled and choked, tasting the bile while I struggled to stop the tears in their tracks._

_Jasper's hand tightened around my arm. _

"_Stop." He shook me lightly. "Stop it. Now." _

_I swallowed, tears stretching my eyes, struggling against the black puddles of nothing which wanted those emotions, sought them and longed to free me from the pain. _

"_But I-I-" I hiccuped. "I can do this, Jasper." _

"_You don't _need_ to do this, Bella." He sighed as his words swam in front of my eyes, nearly tangible. "Stop running. Pain … well, it makes people do stupid things, make stupid choices." His eyes met mine. "But the fear of pain? It forces people to make even stupider ones." _

My head whispered to my heart.

_It should be you … they took your place … because you were too __frightened__ to face what they __knew._

But I wouldn't be anymore.

_His dark, crisp green eyes burned through me, searing the truth into my veins. It wasn't all my fault. I had my part, the disillusionment, the running, the disbelief … all sparked by my inability to understand … myself. _

_I had been running. From me._

_The tears fell harder now, thick, jealous rivers of every bottled up emotion since that night nine years ago. Renee's words, building a fence around my heart. _

_His words, digging a trench beneath it. _

_Jasper's words, setting flame to the wood. _

The crisp crackle of orange ember blazed and then burnt out.

"_Here." Jasper pressed his hand into my palm. I looked down, the thin, cylindrical object swimming in my vision. Blinking twice, I frowned. _

_It'd been years since I'd –_

"_You need it. Trust me. It'll help."_

_I couldn't look up at him, but his presence disappeared from beside me. I was hoisted to my feet, limbs pliable and willing, like one of those paper dolls, all flat and narrow. _

"_Go outside. Pull yourself together." Hints of a smile. "I'm not letting you into that room all snot-faced and hysterical. Go cry yourself out somewhere else." He nudged me towards the door. "Then we'll talk about you growing up and dealing with this situation." _

I tossed the wasted cigarette and stepped inside.

I walked towards the ICU, Jasper's fingers resting on my shoulder, clenching hesitantly.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The solitary evenness of the machinery aligned with my heartbeat. I could feel it shake and rattle my ribcage. Artificially alive. I was the same.

_But I didn't have to be. _

_I could feel that truth, burning at a steady, rounded pace, small ashes of flames working to destroy the dark pit of nothing in me. _

_I pulled at the cigarette, tasting the acrid smoke and feeling the nicotine bubble in my blood. _

_I felt more … whole. But I didn't feel ready for what life was steadily chucking at me, hard object by spiked one. _

My stomach clenched the sight of her, long hair sheared away, bandaged and torn and so very unnaturally still.

Not Alice.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

The rhythm changed, slowed … faded.

Life blurs. Only the noise stretches on.

Life vanishes.

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep._

I wouldn't remember what happened next, if my heart hadn't stopped at the exact same moment as hers.

Time crumbled, and I followed suit, straight into Jasper's arms.

Only he wasn't there to catch me either.

Both of us collapsed, pressed backwards by the steady flow of bodies which seemed to surround her, her shorn hair and her broken body, the high pitched squeal becoming just background noise to a whining defibrillator and controlled, steady shouts.

I couldn't breathe until I felt the steady thump of her heartbeat re-enter my ears.

They escorted us out.

The cement was hard. The air was cold, the hum of interstate traffic steady.

I didn't know where to start.

Paper crumpled to ash, burning embers taking sweet surrender with it, and I stubbed number three out on the wooden bench, flicking the butt into the trash bin.

The pack of menthols hung in my face.

I slid the round stick from its home and watched the paper catch, crackles of red and orange blaze. I drew in, blew out. Still tangled.

"I'm gonna owe you a whole pack if you keep offering."

His chuckle was gravel.

"Nah. Don't worry. You'll pay me back one day."

Lips clamped firmly around paper ends. Breathe in. Blow out.

No more unwound. I was so confused.

"So." He shifted to face me. "What are you gonna do now that he knows?"

Smoke swam in front of me. I flicked off the ash.

"What do you mean?"

Rueful smiles. So like his sister.

"Don't play dumb, Bella." He presses his cig to the wood, an early death. "He isn't theirs."

My spine bristled, hair on the back of my neck edged.

_He isn't mine, either._ "He's no one's." I slammed the wasted end down on the heavy oak.

"No parents?"

My eyes slid shut, chest clenching. More pain.

"No." I swallowed. Jasper leaned against the concrete barrier. "No living family that I know of."

His foot knocked into mine, a swift kick.

"Then … for now … it's your responsibility." He grinned before meandering away, back into the brightly lit building. "Growing up's the shits."

Why oh why did my best friend's boyfriend have to be a walking, talking after-school special?

I needed another pack of menthols.

With an absolute force of will, I trudged through the icy air and back into the confines of a place I never wanted to set foot in again.

This time, I found myself standing in his room instead of hers. Esme stood and stretched, her eyes gesturing me to her place. I sank into the chair, still warm from her slight weight. Both mister and missus vanished from the sterile, medicated space.

I watched him.

Each breath was peaceful, so steady, an eloquent hum that punctuated the intermittent hiss of oxygen. Everything about the unnatural scene was an antithesis to its meaning. I ran my fingertips along his hairline, collecting the thin layer of sweat gathering there.

He could have been sleeping.

If he hadn't looked more like a pillow from the number of gauzy pads lining his body. So, I told him so.

"You know, I could use you as fabric."

The words hung in the sterile air. Dry. No meaning. Sarcasm wasn't an escape this time around. I wrapped my fingers around his limp hand, pulling the palm to my cheek and nestling in the scent of calluses and soap.

"I don't know what to do." These words slipped through as easily as my tears.

For the first time, I didn't fight them – either of them.

"I barely know how to love you." I hiccuped, a dismal snort of not-really amusement. "I'm not even sure I like _myself_. But I know … I know I have to be here." My thumb traced the line of his wrist, drenched in my tears. "Edward … you're the only thing I have left … I just … I loved you – I love you – so completely, when I lost you … somehow, somewhere along the way, I lost _me_."

It was almost as though, with an audible _snap_, my head and heart clicked into place. My tears fell faster, a baptismal for both our hands.

"I promise … I will find us." His hand slid up my check and I leaned into it lightly, using his palm to cradle my face, reminiscing in the heady weight of his touch.

His solid, firm finger flexed against my cheek.

My eyes opened – to meet dark green and gold.

His hand slid from my grasp to the bed. I leapt from my seat. The plastic chair clattered to the ground behind me. His eyelids flickered, bleary eyed and wan, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest.

"Edward?"

As it had been so prone to doing lately, time slowed.

His eyes, so unfocused, centered on me, his fingers curling into his palm and out while he watched me. I stood, stunned, unable to move, sheer joy, panic, and pain a hazy potion. Wild emotion flickered through his eyes, each a span of what seemed like hours, but could only have been seconds, before his brow furrowed.

The door swung open, a rumble of footsteps background noise to the voice I had thought I would never hear again.

But the words that voice carried to my unbelieving ears … you could have drowned me in the Atlantic Ocean, and I wouldn't have cared.

"Who – who are you?"

My heart stopped. My knees weakened. My spine slouched. I fell, suspended in air, bones and muscles and tendons not enough to hold me in place.

All I saw was black.

_And grass. _

_Lots and lots of grass. _

_I sat up, my hands rising to meet my head, but it didn't throb. Instead, I found my hair in tiny ringlets, curled against the back of my neck, warm from the sunshine cascading through slits in the trees. _

_The fucking hell – _

"_Isabella Marie, your mother may not have been the best role model, but I know I didn't teach you to use that kind of language." _

_No flipping way. _

_My eyes darted around the endlessly flat, grassy field I sat in, until they landed on his frame. _

_Dad. _

_I sprang to my feet in a single motion and practically ran through the ankle length weeds. My shoulders, my heart, my head, it was all light again, airy, and I threw myself into my father's embrace. His thick, warm hands wrapped around my shoulders. His mustache bristled against my neck. I flinched away. _

"_Ew, Dad. I didn't think angels were allowed to have facial hair." I tugged at the thick whiskers over his upper lip. He brushed my touch away. _

"_I'm no angel, Bells." His fingers wrapped around my hand entirely, pulling me over a few feet to a hand sewn blanket I recognized – Gram's favorite quilt. "And before you ask, I'm not a ghost, either." _

_I sat on the blanket, ignoring the fact that I was now in a white, eyelet lace dress, and wound a strand of hair around my index finger – just like I did when I was seven. _

"_Well, not to be too obvious, but," I dropped my hair and pointed the finger at him, "you're kind of dead, so what are you?" _

_Charlie laughed. _

"_We need to talk, Bells."_

_I snorted._

"_Like I haven't said that a thousand times in the past nine years. However, I reiterate – you're dead." I ran my hand through the grass. "So what the fu – what am I doing here? And, more importantly, what are you doing here?" _

"_It's just like I said, honey. We need to talk. Father to daughter." He smiled and ran a hand over my knee. _

_Okay. I could go along with this. _

"_So." I ripped a few pieces of grass up and scattered them to the breeze. "What do we need to talk about?" _

_He shrugged. "How about you tell me?" _

_I scowled. "I thought this was your conversation."_

_He smiled. "Bella … you're talking to yourself." _

_Wha – Oh. I got it now. _

_Charlie nodded. "That's right. You need someone in your life, someone that should have been there from the beginning. So your subconscious gave you me." _

_Well, that didn't help. I didn't want to talk to myself. _

"_It's about time you got to know yourself, don't you think?" _

"_Oh shut up, me." _

_Subconscious Charlie laughed and then frowned. "So he's forgotten you again, hasn't he Bells?" _

_My insides cracked. _

"_I know." _

"_You can't run from him, Bella." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's time to make a decision." _

_I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away. I should have known this could never be my father. Charlie always sucked at conversations with lessons in them. _

"_He loves you, Bells. Maybe it's not obvious, maybe it's not right there on the surface, but he loved you the first time, he loved you last time, and he loves you this time. And you don't get to stick around just to see, either." His hand ruffled my curls. I was fourteen again. "You choose to stay here, to love him like you know you do, and give him the chance to love you too, or you walk away now, and leave him for someone else to love."_

"_But Dad –"_

_His arms were around me in less than a second. _

"_I'm sorry, Bells. I'm sorry I was never there to help you learn … but you know now. It's okay to feel. It's okay to hurt … because if you can't take the chance to hurt, you don't deserve the chance to love." _

_My head shot around, tears heavy in my eyes. _

_Why was I always crying now? _

_Charlie smiled, his huge hand, always holding his gun, now holding my face, and with it, my heart. _

"_It's okay, baby. Everything's gonna be okay." _

_I sniffled. "I miss you, Daddy." _

"_I know. But you're a big girl now. I must've done something right, because you're a beautiful woman. And you're strong – a lot stronger than you realize." _

_He stood. A gentle weight tugged at my shoulders. I was suddenly exhausted; my head screamed at me to lie down, to close my eyes and feel the world slow around me. I leaned back against my elbows. Charlie began to walk away. _

"_You'll make the right decision, Bells. You were always smarter than your mother _and_ me – combined."_

_The invisible weight seemed to grab my neck, but when my head landed, it was soft and fluffy and cotton-filled._

_And it smelled distinctly like … _

An Emmett-filled hospital.

I blinked twice, my vision hazy at best. Emmett's favorite cologne drifted over my senses, filling my nose, while his voice infiltrated my ear drums.

"Bells? Bella, are you there?"

Instead of responding, my hand immediately reached up and smacked him in the side of the head.

"Ow! Jesus, Bells, that shit hurts!"

"I know. Thank you for saving me, Em. Now, will you please get out of my face?"

Emmett leaned back and I leaned forward, pressing up on my elbows, only to find myself in a small room on a hospital bed. Emmett was rubbing his ear.

"The nurse told me to bring you in here. Couldn't very well have an unconscious girl in a room with a guy who just came out of a coma. Said if you didn't wake up in thirty minutes, they'd check on you."

I rubbed the inside of my very sore sides and underarms. My entire body felt like it had been hit with a Mack truck.

"I thought only hangovers made you feel this bad," I mumbled, before glancing up at Emmett. "So … I didn't dream it?" Em looked at me, eyes wary. "He's awake?"

"Yeah Bells … he's awake. And he's good, for the most part. Vitals are okay. He's still in a lot of pain though, so they amped up his morphine."

I wanted to hold him.

The sudden urge – no, the absolute _need_ – to wrap my arms around his waist and take away the pain hit me harder than stiff joints and throbbing muscles ever could have. I nearly collapsed again.

"And – his … I mean – him ... remembering –"

"It's sketchy." Emmett sighed, using one hand to cradle his head. "They said they knew there was a chance, cause in the crash he landed on the same area that got all fucked up into a bloody mess last time, but they couldn't be sure unless he woke up." He snorted. "Well, at least now they're sure."

I groaned, the noise an ache from deep within my chest. Could I really start over? Could I do it all again? He barely remembered me last time; now, after all of my rejections, what right did I have to try and force a life he didn't know on him all over again?

I loved him. It was plain as day, no more fighting, no more protesting. I loved Edward.

But did I love Trevor? I didn't know.

I could barely decide on whether or not I trusted myself in this mess. But I knew Dream Daddy was right. It wasn't fair to tug him along while I figured my shit out. I had a choice to make.

I just wasn't sure I had enough spine to make the one my entire body longed for.

"Bells, it's okay. Everything's gonna be –"

"No. Please, just stop telling me everything's going to be okay. Sometimes, things are just fucked up, okay?"

Emmett was silent.

"And it's alright for them to be fucked up. You just have to … figure out if you can deal with it." I breathed in, shakily, and glanced up at my best friend, at the person who had been with me from the beginning. "I mean, really, what kind of chance do I have? It's not like he would even remember last time, especially not me, so, I mean, what do I really mean to him –"

Emmett's hand slapped over my mouth. I glared, debating on sinking my teeth into the side of his thumb.

"Whoa, Bella, slow your roll! And don't you dare fucking bite me." I glowered at him. He wasn't fazed. "What do you mean, what chance do you have? Bella … he remembered."

My mouth would have slid open, if not for Emmett's large hand pressed against my face.

"He … what?"

"He was at Rose's apartment, I guess after he talked to you. I showed them. The picture. I had to, Bells, I just couldn't lie to him anymore. Alice and Jasper found out too. That's why Alice went with him. They both wanted to apologize and bring you home." He grimaced, removing the hand from my face and dragging it over his forehead. "It's my fault. If I could've kept my big mouth shut, they'd both still be okay."

I nearly laughed, the situation was so unbelievably ludicrous. He remembered. And Emmett blamed _himself_.

Oh, the tangled webs we weave …

"Em … thank you."

He didn't even look up.

"What?"

I leaned over and kissed the giant, grizzly cheek.

"Thank you. I could never have done what you did. You were braver than I was, Em." I slid off the bed, catching myself when my balance wavered, and finally standing on my own.

_Now, it's my turn to be brave._

"Bells, what –"

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault," I called back over my shoulder, nearly sprinting down the hall. I halted in front of the door. Room 524.

"_If you can't take the chance to hurt, you don't deserve the chance to love."_

I wanted my chance. I would give him a choice. And I might break my heart, again, in the process. This time, though, I knew – the chances, the choices … in those lay the beauty of life.

I pressed open the door and stepped through.

Carlisle noticed me first, followed by Esme, and then a nurse who scampered about the room, running a series of vital checks. Edward seemed to be dozing, his eyelashes fluttering against pale, bruised cheeks.

"Bella," Carlisle reached out for me and then dropped his hand, unsure. I wondered if this was the first time he'd ever been unsure in his life. "We're glad you're okay." The nurse brushed by me, leaving the room.

Esme stood and walked towards me first, taking my hand in hers.

"He's been asking for you." She faltered. "Well, not by name, but … we promised. As soon as you woke up, we'd give you both privacy." Her lips pursed. "Please, be gentle with him, Bella." I could see the plea in her eyes.

_Don't tell him. Not yet._

If only she could know … her wish would be granted, but not for her sake.

Carlisle laid a hand on my shoulder as they walked past me. "Don't hesitate to call a nurse if anything happens, Bella. It's as easy as pushing a button."

I nodded, holding my breath until they were both gone.

Each step was an easy battle, heart waging war with my head, my past dripping from me like shedding skin. Who I used to be, every scar, every wound, every abandonment – I longed to strip them from my body, to keep them from who I would be. The person that mattered here, in this room, was the person I longed to be now.

I dropped her to the floor, my paper doll, my flat, insufficient character, and I stepped into _me_.

A whole, full woman, who would be worthy of his love.

Finally, as a new, better, growing version of me, I sank to Edward's bedside. I took his hand. And I waited.

Minutes passed, I didn't know how long, but every moment gave me another to study his form – the motion of his chest, the throbbing of his heartbeat on each monitor and beneath the tips of my fingers. They were no longer painful, but joyful; the evidence of his life, of the living, breathing, chance I had to reconstruct the shattered existence fate had made of us.

I laid my head against his forearm when I felt the muscles twitch beneath me. I glanced up. Gold-specked green was staring at me, an odd mix of confusion and care tucked beneath his heavy-lidded gaze.

The morphine.

"Hi." I couldn't bring my voice over a whisper.

"Hi." His normally sweet tenor had gone through a meat grinder.

I started to stand and adjust, when he panicked. His hand grabbed for me and wrapped around my elbow.

"Please. Please don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were hesitant on my tongue, but I knew he needed to hear them. "I promise."

He relaxed, slackening his grip, but instead of removing his hand, he slid it down my forearm and over my wrist, intertwining weak fingers with my shaking ones. He closed his eyes.

"Sit with me?" The hope in his voice didn't allow me to reject him. I edged gingerly onto the side of the bed, resting my weight on the balls of my feet. Clinging to his weak grip on my hand.

He swallowed. "I feel … I …" I watched him scowl before finally spitting the words out. "Are you my wife?"

I smiled, my thumb stroking up the inside of his hand.

"You really don't remember, do you?" He shook his head gingerly, eyes still closed. "Well … I wouldn't exactly call me your wife … or even really your girlfriend."

"But you're something." He hesitated. "Who … what's your name?"

"Bella," I croaked out.

He rolled the name on his lips. "Bella." His eyes opened, head crooking sideways. "Isabella?"

_Oh, shit … _

I nodded, tears in my throat.

"Bella fits better." His hand squeezed mine lightly. "You may not be my girlfriend or wife, Bella, but … you're something. I know." He tugged at our twined hands. I was a feather. His light touch pulled me over, till I landed neatly next to him, my waist tucked in the crook of his elbow, narrowly avoiding a few tubes attached to his oxygen meters. "I can feel it." His eyes brushed mine, the corner of his mouth attempting a smirk before he flinched in pain. "And you can too."

_Edward ..._

"Bella … why am I here?" His eyes closed again, his head sliding into the space between my neck and shoulder. "No one will tell me."

"Fine," I attempted a grin, "but I get the next question." He smiled a bit. I swallowed thickly, the words forced from my tongue. "You were in an accident. A car accident. You lost control in a snowstorm, nearly collided with a semi, and ended up wrapped around a tree." _Well, really, a few trees._ "That's all we know."

"Okay," he murmured, silent while digesting the information. His eyes darkened a little before he looked at me. "Your turn."

"What do you remember?"

He gave a half sigh at this. I had the feeling it was a question he'd been over a lot.

"Not much. I remember ... a few things from my childhood … my parents," he squinted, "they got … divorced?" He frowned. "But that's not right, because they were here. I don't know. I don't know what I'm remembering. I remember a horse. And a blonde … but she wasn't right." He turned his head, facing me. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."

I started to shush him, but one glance silenced me.

"But I do know you. I think … something in me remembers you, even if I don't." He grimaced. "That's something though, right?" I couldn't speak. His eyes scanned my face again. I could only stare. A strange glint appeared. He smiled, his arm tightening on my waist.

"I think … everything feels better, safer, now that you're here, next to me. " He hesitated. "I think … I may have loved you, Bella."

I hiccuped a sob. The tears made it out of my throat, cascading down my cheeks. Panic lit up his heartbeat.

"Please – don't – everything's just … it's so complicated … and so very … fucked up," I spluttered, a mix of tears and laughter.

"Bella." The pain in his voice was nothing compared to the pain on his face as he moved, tugging at cords, pulling their slack.

I protested and he grunted, pressing me down, enclosing me in his embrace and gathering me as close as his wounds would allow. His nose pushed into my hair, chapped lips catching the crown of my head.

"You care about me, right?"

_You have no idea._

I nodded, unable to speak. He pulled my face around. His eyes caught my heart.

"Then it's okay. We'll figure it out. Everything will be alright."

* * *

Alas, I have no mini-moments, as Edward doesn't remember much of this time anyhow; however, I would love to send you a snapshot of the next chapter.

Just a bit more, and then this story will be nothing but a memory ... I hope it will at least be a good one.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Lighting the Dark

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "If You Could Only See" as performed by Tonic, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** My wonderful, lovely, complimentary, amazing beta-doll, **clarabella75**. She has fun, she has angst, she has love, and she has plot. If you aren't reading her fics, you are truly missing out.

**To every single one of you** out there, reading, reviewing, alerting, favorite-ing, enjoying, THANK YOU. :) I write this for me, and I write this for you. I may not be the biggest fish in a ocean of whales, but I am pretty much convinced - **I have the most FANTASTIC readers in the fandom.  
**  
You all have stuck with me through thick and thin. And I thank you. Hugs, kisses, and cookies to all. :)

Also, I'm putting this here - review if you feel so inspired, and I'd love to reward you with a sneak peek into next chapter. That I already have written this time. :)

Now, with no further ado - Happy reading, my friends.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen:  
Lighting the Dark**

_Well you got your reasons  
And you got your lies  
And you got your manipulations  
They cut me down to size  
_

_Sayin' you love, but you don't  
You give your love, but you won't_

_If you could only see the way she loves me_  
_Then maybe you would understand_  
_Why I feel this way about our love_  
_And what I must do …_

"_If You Could Only See" - Tonic_

x0x0x0x0x0x

I knew he was asleep when his hand sank against my bicep.

I knew he was so absolutely fucking gorgeous – even though he looked like he had been sent through a meat grinder and was ready to be made into Edward-burgers.

More so than anything, however, I knew he was right.

And because he was right, I knew I had to move. I was so close to drifting away, to simply curling up on the tiny bed made for one and finding my little bit of heaven tucked into his side, that it was time to keep going. Possibly even time to leave.

Every atom of my body, brain, heart, and soul was literally velcroed to the man at my side.

Lifting a sluggish arm, I ran my fingers through his short, damp hair.

I had to be strong enough to pull away, for both of us. Or we would never have a chance.

It took longer than I expected to unwind myself from the tubes and limbs without jostling anything vital, but when I finished, I leaned against the bed and pressed my hand to his cheek.

It was okay. We would be okay.

_His hand ran the length of my arm. I couldn't speak for the tears pouring across my face, wetting his pillow. He cradled me. I was in awe. _He_ was holding _me, _as gently as though I were the fragile one, a priceless, one-of-a-kind item he could never find again._

_After a few moments, my tears dried up and my sobbing calmed. I could feel his chest against my side, rising and falling, his exhales stirring the hair against my cheek. Silence. _

"_Bella?" _

_"Hmm?" _

"_Please don't leave me again. I need you …" his words drifted. I looked up. His eyes were closed, his breathing evening out. "I need you," he breathed, hand playing absently on my shoulder, "to take care of me." _

Without me in its way, his body rolled to the left, his heartbeat even and solid. My fingers ghosted across the bandage set back over his left eyebrow, towards the crown of his head.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. Until you can."

It didn't seem fair.

First, he hadn't had the age or the opportunity to take care of himself; every one of those decisions was taken away from him. Now, he didn't have the memory or the ability to take care of himself, and every decision he had could be taken away by more lies.

This time, however, he had me. And this time, I was determined to make sure that he had every opportunity to know the truth.

This time, it would be his choice to make. No more hiding.

Those words and that decision were how I found myself confronting my fear – and confronting their deception.

I leaned heavily against the fake wood chair rail, my foot swaying above the cheap vinyl tile, a nervous tick. I waited as patiently as I could for Emmett to return from Edward's room with the Cullens.

It had been nearly three full weeks since the accident – three weeks of blurred days, of fragile minutes spent in and out of my apartment, of calling Saint Joseph's my home, of shifting between his hospital bed and hers, of freeing myself from work as early as possible and stealing moments alone with him, of watching his body knit itself back together as the gauze disappeared from wound after wound.

I'd have thought it'd be tedious, waiting in those plastic chairs for a chance to see him, to touch him, to know things were going to be okay. Turns out love can make anything more than bearable – it can even make unbearable things joyful. Only because it meant I had a chance of going near him.

I had spent my hours with him talking, throwing out bits and pieces of the truth, feeding him his past and sharing what I did know of the person that might be hiding inside. I could barely believe that in a few days, he would be leaving these whitewashed halls and sterile lights.

In a few days, he would be coming home. I just wasn't sure where that home would be.

Now, it was time to start figuring things out.

I would let them know I was going to tell him the truth, and that he _would_ have his own choice.

Three sets of eyes stared at me from across the waiting room, exiting the wide hallway, coming closer. I ran a nervous hand through my loose curls and tugged at the gold locket which never left my neck before glancing over at my best friend. The three solid figures stopped in front of me. Esme smiled genuinely.

"Bella."

I cut her off. If I let her speak first, I would never get past my fear.

"We need to talk."

The change was immediate. Esme's eyes glazed over; her husband's eyes stoned shut.

Emmett backed away.

"It's not my place, Bells." The words he didn't say hung thicker than my desperately beating heart. _It's yours._

_Okay. I can do this._

I faced Trevor's "parents."

"Can we talk, please?"

The plastic smile placed on Carlisle's face twisted my gut.

"Of course, Bella." One arm flew out, pointing towards the exit and a shaded alcove. "Please, lead the way."

Their steps were quiet behind me, echoing in the hollow hallway before clicking against the cobblestone sidewalk. I halted a few feet out from the entry way. One arm hung loose at my side, the other fidgeted with the locket. My stomach heaved and lurched. The couple in front of me clenched hands.

"What can we do for you, Bella." Carlisle broke the silence, his statement no more a question than my intent to beat around the bush.

I dropped the locket and took a deep breath.

"I'm sure you know what I wanted to speak with you about." They eyed me simultaneously. The motion would have been oddly disturbing if panic hadn't been firmly wrapped around my spine. I cleared my throat and stood straight, steeling myself.

"Things can't go back to the way they were." I hesitated only seconds before entwining myself in the situation. "I won't let it happen."

Esme hiccuped. Carlisle's hand gripped hers tightly.

"Please … continue."

I nodded.

"I know that this will be … difficult for everyone involved, but," I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek before my eyes met theirs, "he deserves to know the truth. All of it." I glanced at Esme, tear-rimmed, and then back to Carlisle.

Carlisle's jaw worked; I could see a defense brewing. I squared my shoulders.

"He deserves to make his own decisions. About everything."

Silence cut through the air, heavy. Carlisle's gaze remained fixed on me.

"I apologize for any pain we have caused you, and I'm disappointed you seem to feel this way about this situation, Isabella, but we're not certain we can allow you to send our son into a shock he may not be able to handle."

I worked over the anger at his hesitant threat and stared him down.

"I'm sorry, but, there's nothing you can do. He's an adult, and he's stronger than you think. Even if you wanted to claim legal rights over him …" I let my words fall, the insinuation more than enough.

They _had_ no legal rights over a situation falling just short of kidnapping, and they would never be able to keep him from me; he demanded my presence daily. I glanced over towards the woman who still hadn't spoken.

Esme's eyes pierced mine, bright and green … the same shade as Edward's. My steady, hard pressed stance faltered. Against my better instinct, I took her hand.

"I know you have always loved him with everything you have. Even if the situation was wrong, I'll make sure he remembers that."

She nodded before pulling her hand away. I couldn't blame her. I'm not sure I'd have been able to take comfort from the one person who was about to rip a piece of my life away, no matter how wrong I had been to take it in the first place. Carlisle's voice stopped me as I turned back.

"Will you contact his parents?"

The question caught me off guard. My heart twisted faintly at the memory.

"No. None of his immediate family is alive, so far as I know."

I had watched the news of his death devour their spirits more violently than it had devoured my own. _Her frail bones and thin hair. His violent hands and whiskey-drenched breath. _

"When will you tell him?" Carlisle's words brought me back.

I shrugged a little. I didn't see the point in waiting.

"No time like the present, I guess."

And with that, I made my way back inside and towards the elevator.

My warpath halted in front of his door.

Carlisle and Esme hadn't followed me inside, but I honestly couldn't tell you what I would have done if they had. Continued?

I wasn't sure. But I knew in this case, I was stronger alone than surrounded by an army.

Before I could think again, I opened the door and quietly slipped into the small, rectangular room, sliding my trench coat from my shoulders and setting it on the chair in the corner. He was asleep, dozing calmly, the pale bruising lining his body merely a shadow compared to what it had been.

I felt it – the current beneath my skin, the tenable draw in his direction, the thin wires which had and would bind us together for eternity. They drew me to his side, where I leaned calmly against the thin mattress, my hands gliding up the side of his arm – the arm he was still relearning how to use.

His eyes fluttered, his forehead creasing before his lids flickered open, halfway. Within seconds, his entire face was aglow.

"Bella."

"Hey."

"Are you staying?"

"As long as you want me," I grinned, and he grabbed hold of my wrist, using it to pull himself upwards, bit by bit. When he stopped, I leaned over, slid onto the bed, and curled into his side, pressing my head into the crevice of his neck and raising his right arm to fit around my shoulders.

"Forever, then," he muttered, stirring the hair at the crown of my head.

The beating of his heart thudded, solid against my ear.

_I can only hope._

"So, how was work?" The words rumbled beneath me. "I'm glad you got off early again today."

The attempt at inane conversation nearly choked me. I couldn't make small talk when I was faced with the most difficult conversation of both of our lives. Instead, I was quiet, unsure; my chest felt heavier than a pound of lead sinking to the bottom of the sea.

_How do you even … start?_

"Bella?" His firm finger found my chin; light pressure lifted my eyes to his. The shift in emotion was instantaneous – anger replaced any calm. "What's wrong?"

He could see it in my face … the fear, the confusion, the uncertainty. Not everything was right in Tinsel town. Oh, hell, who was I kidding - _nothing_ was right about any of this.

I couldn't bring myself to lie to him.

"Um, Carlisle, Esme, and I – we were talking…" I trailed off and tucked my head further beneath his chin.

"Okay?" His arm tightened around me, fingertips ghosting across my shoulder, up my neck. "About what?" He paused, but I didn't fill the silence. "Bella, just talking isn't enough to make you this upset." He tugged at the lock of hair entwined in his fingers. "What happened?"

He was too fucking perceptive. I had let him too far in to go back now.

"I can't –" my words were hoarse, drawn out. I stopped and cleared my throat, coughing a little. The weight of the world had landed on my chest. One solitary tear slid across the bridge of my nose. "I can't lie to you … not again."

His entire body stilled. I felt it, the lack of movement, the paralyzing fear which ate at him every moment of every day, buried only when he managed to forget that he couldn't remember.

"Again?" he breathed. The word hung in the air.

"Again." I remained, hidden beneath him, unable to see the stillness. "You're going home soon. Two days." I swallowed. Christmas had passed, forgotten. New Year's Eve was tomorrow. "Can I tell you … Edward?" He flinched at the name. I pressed on. "Can I tell you who you are?"

The silence sank me. I waited, nearly trembling, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath me, an elongated, reddened oval still a giddy pink not six inches from my fingertips, hidden beneath a layer of bandage and gown. I had come so close to losing him.

"Okay."

Barely audible, but I heard, and I hoped. I wouldn't lose him again.

"You were seventeen the first time I lost you."

His body was still, but his hand began to move against my arm, rhythmic.

"You lived with me, in Forks, Washington. You moved there when you were nine, with your father and your stepmother, and we met in school." I couldn't prevent the tears, but they didn't hinder me. Once the river began to flow, there would be no stopping the flood. "You, me, and … Emmett. We were best friends. We did everything together." I chuckled through the pain. "There wasn't an hour that our parents could separate us … even when Emmett was in the hospital. You and I snuck over on your bike."

"Emmett was in the hospital?"

His voice surprised me. I pulled my body backwards to look at him. He was … hungry. A faint yearning lined his features; he was adorable, staring at me like I was the oasis of life for a parched man wandering in a desert of insufficiency.

"Yeah. One of the bullies at school broke his femur in a football game." I snickered a little. "Don't worry … we paid him back." Edward's eyebrow rose, but he didn't ask. "Anyhow … Emmett went off to college. And you … it was your Senior year of high school. I was so scared of you leaving, of loosing you for good. And then, right as the school year started, your grandma … she died."

Edward made a small noise in the back of his throat before he laid his head back on the pillow, his hand pressing my head back into the crook of his neck.

"I think … I remember her." I felt him frown. "A little."

I nodded beneath him.

"She raised you when you were younger … your parents had gone through a pretty nasty divorce when you were about five. Your grandmother kept you through the worst of it. After your dad won custody, your mom just … disappeared." I snuggled further into his embrace, reaching back to entwine my hand with his.

"I don't even know what her name was. You hated talking about her. I asked you once, after my dad –" my voice broke, and I cleared my throat. "After my dad died."

I swallowed. I nearly collapsed.

"I'm so sorry, Bella."

And he held me. His left arm fell across my body and I felt him turn, snuggling me into him. His hand brushed against my lower back. I nearly sobbed. I hadn't been held … since the night my father had died. And it had been by the same person.

As soon as I could, I pulled myself together, a sniffling, wet-cheeked mess. Falling apart over the past was not the goal I had in mind.

"You went to her." I spluttered the words; it was all I could do to force them out coherently. If I didn't simply keep going, I would never move forward. "You flew out of the Sea-Tac airport to go to her funeral in Savannah at 11:35 am, on September 30, 2001. And that was the last time I saw your face … for a full nine years. Delta flight 1220 crash landed outside of Atlanta, Georgia at 10:27 pm, Eastern Time.

"Edward," my voice cracked on his name. I craned my neck backwards and carefully yanked my wedged arm from between our enmeshed bodies. My fingertips found the scar which cut across the bridge of his nose, small yet defined. I traced the line with the pad of my thumb.

"You died."

Everything stopped. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn the entire world ceased to turn in that moment. A single drop of rain pinged against the glass behind us, shattering the silence. His face was stony, still, and stared at me intently. I let my thumb fall to the small nick of a scar below his jaw line, and then brought my fingertip to his lips.

"We buried you." The words were hesitant, suspended in air, almost as unbelievable as the truth and lies waiting behind them. "There was a coffin, a body … your father identified it as you. The funeral was closed casket. I was so angry … I couldn't see you, or hold you, or know. I didn't believe them … not until you didn't come back.

Where else could you have been but in the ground? It was the only way you wouldn't have come back to find me. I wanted to join you. I wanted to die, right there, and sink into the dirt over your grave. I can still see the headstone … your name, chiseled in, so clear. It was all I could do not to join you that day."

My eyes watered.

"Emmett pulled me back. He wouldn't let me go; he refused. My mom … well, she gave up months ago, but Emmett … I mean too much to him. He couldn't lose me too, so he brought me back … but I wasn't Izzy anymore." I held his gaze. He was unreadable. "I would only be Izzy … for you."

A slow, solitary tear slid down his face.

"Go on. Please."

My heart fluttered in my chest, nearly vaulting outwards as I remembered that day.

"Six months ago … I moved to Atlanta. Alice – she knew me, from school, so I lived with her. She took me to meet – h – her," I stuttered, unsure. I licked my dry, chapped, nearly peeling lips. "Her best friend's fiancé." Our eyes never wavered. "You."

"I nearly collapsed when I saw you, and it took me so long … to believe myself, to figure it out. But I knew … something wasn't right. So finally," I swallowed, remembering that night, "I confronted Esme. She confirmed everything. You lived. You had been in a plane crash, and Carlisle found you, but no one knew who you were – not even you. So they took you home and adop–," my voice cracked on the word which felt like – no, which _was _–a lie. I cleared my throat. "Adopted you."

He snorted softly, still fixed on my face.

"So this is familiar territory." His scarred eyebrow rose, sideways and slightly scrunched up.

I was doused with confusion.

"Familiar … what? Oh."

_Shit._ _He thinks they would've told him …_

His brows drew together. Instinct drove my thumb to them, smoothing them apart.

"They never told you, Edward. They let you … believe - the lies."

Lines creased his forehead, regardless of my fingers. He pulled away, eyes shut.

"No … no, they wouldn't … they – they care about me! I've seen it – seen them, here, now. They – Bella …"

He nearly whimpered my name; his fists trembled, his chest heavy and shaken.

I slid my legs to the side and pushed my arms around his head, pulling it to my chest.

"They do … they love you, Edward. But they … they made a mistake. A really, really awful mistake." My hands slid through his re-emerging locks while he shuddered. "But they love you … Carlisle and Esme … they did, and they still do."

Immediately, he began to shake his head, nearly catching my shoulder in his vehemence.

"No. They – then why aren't _they _here?" He gulped air in sharp, hollow breaths. Everything fell through to anger. "Why the _fuck_ aren't they here, telling me themselves? Apologizing?"

I was silent. I didn't know, couldn't tell him that myself. One day … he would learn to forgive them, to accept.

I hoped.

Hot, thick tears, few but heavy, wet the front of my shirt. I shifted, supporting his weight and fingering the downy fluff that had once been a full head of unruly hair.

"Because they're afraid ... like I was."

I wasn't even sure he heard me. I didn't care.

Moments passed, and I didn't care. If anyone had come into his room and asked me to leave him, they'd have wound up in the hospital bed a door over. His head rested on my chest, and I ran my hands through his short locks so many times, I lost the feeling in the tips of my fingers.

Still, I didn't care.

I don't know if it was hours, or minutes, or even seconds before his voice broke the silence, but the sound that passed through his lips was the most painfully broken thing I've heard to this day.

"What now?"

His throat was scratched dry, and I leaned over to grab the plastic cup of melted ice from beside his bed, pressing it to his lips.

"I don't know. I guess … now, you make a choice."

He pushed the water away and licked his lips. I closed my eyes.

"You're going home in two days … in two days is when your life begins. Again." He shifted against me, moving back towards the hospital bed, pulling away. "You just have to decide … which life you want to go back to. Trevor's … or Edward's."

The truth … or the lies.

My fingers found his hand. He retracted it by mere inches. It stung.

He had never pulled away before, as Trevor or Edward.

"I will be here … whatever you decide." It was little more than a whisper, but it was all I could manage. "Whoever you want to be … I can't leave you again. I – I promise."

"I need some time … please." His words nearly tumbled out on top of mine.

I couldn't say my heart didn't fight against leaving him. My breathing shortened quickly before I could smooth it out. It was only logical to ask for space … he _wasn't _rejecting me – yet.

"Okay," I nodded, carefully disentangling myself from his limbs and the few remaining wires. "I – um – I need to go see Alice, anyhow." My smile was weak, watery. He looked through me, eyes fixed on the city life below the wide glass pane. I nearly broke again at the absolute despondency in that gaze. "Just," I sniffed once, "call me if you need me." I patted my coat pocket. "I've got my phone."

I moved from the room.

He never said a word.


	20. Ch Nineteen: Memories in the Moments

******Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Little Wonders" as performed by Rob Thomas, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N: **So, because I'm a bit impatient, and don't feel like waiting any longer (sorry Clara!) I am posting this chapter before I get it back from my beta ... if there are any glaring errors when she does get it back, I'll simply replace the chapter, but, hopefully, I don't think there are too many. :)

However! Even though this chapter doesn't reveal her handiwork, **clarabella75** is still a fantabulous friend and wonderful beta. Anyone is lucky to have stumbled upon the little gems I call her fan fiction. :) It's called **Home**, and it is fantastic. You should check it out.

**Secondly!** I know I've been saying this a lot, but it's just because I can't help feeling so wonderfully grateful. THANK YOU to everyone who has enjoyed, loved, read, reviewed, alerted, or favorited this little piece of my heart. I'm rather attached to this story, so knowing that next chapter is the last ... well, it's kind of making me bit sad. But I will never forget the awesome words of inspiration and encouragement my amazing readers have given me. You've even helped direct the story, on occasion ... even when you didn't know it. ;)

**Lastly!** As always - review if you feel so inspired, and I'd love to reward you with a sneak peek of the majority of the next Mini-Moment with Treward (who is really mostly Edward now). This time, we'll be taking a look at his conversation with Esme and Carlisle, after Bella tells him the truth. Again, I already have it written this time, and, while I will be posting the full Mini-Moment when I post the last chapter of this story, if you want to get it early ... well, you know the drill. :)

Love, hugs, tea, and cheesecake.

Happy reading, my friends.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen  
Memories in the Moments **

_Our lives are made  
In these small hours  
These little wonders  
These twists and turns of fate  
Time falls away, but these small hours  
These little wonders  
Still remain_

"_Little Wonders" – Rob Thomas_

x0x0x0x0x0x

"_Just," I sniffed once, "call me if you need me." I patted my coat pocket. "I've got my phone."_

_I moved from the room._

_He never said a word._

x0x0x0x0x0x

The wallpaper was raised … dips and potholes in the wall. Most definitely not well laid. I picked at the overlapping edge, listening to the _click_ it made against my nail.

I hadn't been able to move five feet from his door in twenty minutes. My eyes were closed; my head against the badly papered wall.

"Bella …" _Shuffle, shuffle, kick._ Small nips of pain radiated through my numb leg. "Bella? Are you asleep?"

I cracked one lid open, emotionally exhausted.

"Hey, Yoda."

He grinned.

"Hey yourself, lover girl. Whatcha up to?"

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. "What does it look like I'm up to?"

Leaning against the wall, he crossed one arm over his chest and propped his chin up in the other.

"I'd say absolutely shit nothin'."

I snorted and shut my eyes again.

"Ding, ding. We have a winner."

"Then you won't have a problem coming to visit, would you?"

"Visit?" I glanced at him sideways. "Alice?"

He nodded. I raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not. But ... why are you asking?"

He shrugged.

"She just asked me to find you. Said she wanted to talk to you."

Odd.

Well ... Alice had always been a little off.

I slid my fingers down the wall to the floor and then pushed myself forwards, pulling at weary muscles to stand. I followed Jasper in silence. He didn't walk with me into Alice's room, one wing down. He just opened the door and gestured me inside.

"Aren't you coming?"

He shook his head.

"Hell no. I don't get in the middle of girl stuff."

Girl stuff?

Shuffling my feet, I edged into the room, suddenly feeling a bit bad that I hadn't come to visit Alice yet today. But, in all honesty, between confronting the people who had kidnapped my best friend and confessing to the man I loved that his entire life was a lie, I had a lot on my plate.

_I will not blame myself for things I can't control._

It was my new mantra. Breathing out, I tried to let the stress escape and focused on my other best friend, who was in the middle of tossing the TV remote to the bed with a death scowl.

"Remind me why I had cable at the apartment?"

"Because the repair guy had a nice ass, and you flirted your way into HBO."

"Oh, yeah." Grinning, she gingerly lifted the railing of her bed and edged sideways – using her arms to move her legs.

I stared at her.

"Ali -"

"Come on, sit with me." Patting the bed, she cut me off. "Please?"

I rolled my eyes and scooted in next to her, rustling the stiff sheets. "You don't have to beg, nymph."

"Nymph?" She snorted, snuggling into my shoulder. "Maybe nympho …"

I chuckled while she finished adjusting the rest of her body. We leaned against each other, a late afternoon soap opera on mute our only form of shared entertainment.

After a few minutes, I started to run a hand through her short, feathered locks. Her beloved, long, glossy hair had been so entangled in tree bark and scrap metal, the emergency responders had to shear it all off in order to save her life.

I flinched when she sniffled.

"Alice?" She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Jasper said ... you wanted to talk."

"Yeah." She went silent for a few more moments. I watched her face, trying to read the unreadable.

"I'm sorry."

Alice was the only woman I had ever been close to, and as I studied her watery, thin, hazel eyes, I couldn't bring myself to say a word. This was Alice's battle - and while I had to give Edward the key, Alice already had the whole set. She just needed to unlock the door.

"I know that things ... haven't been the same for us, since the accident." My hand drifted to my own head. Her fingers reached upwards, searching for hair to wrap her fingers around - an absentminded habit. "At first - well, I just ignored it. I guess I figured that it was just ... how things were going to go back to normal, little by little, you know? But then ... they didn't. And it was my fault."

She shifted and moved away from me so she could look me in the eye.

"I wanted to tell you, that day and every day since. I'm sorry, Bella." Her voice grew softer with every word, until I was nearly straining to hear her. "I should have been a better friend ... I was your confidant, and I didn't know – I had no idea, because I didn't ask. I said so many things, but I was so ... so ..." she pressed her lips together and glared at something behind me, "so – self-involved!"

With that one word, everything about her deflated. Her small shoulders slumped and she leaned backwards, supported by her hands on the mattress.

"I wanted to tell you, I wanted to hug you, from the moment I found out." Her eyes never left mine. "The whole story ... everything about it?" She shook her head. "It's crazy, Bella. It's seriously, seriously screwed up, but ... I guess it's true, and it's your life. And I should have –" her voice cracked. One tiny, beaded tear slid down her cheek. "I should have been there for you. I'm so, so sorry."

Instantly, my arms were wrapped around her small form.

"It's okay, Alice, it's okay."

And so, for the second time in as many hours, I found myself holding. I found myself comforting and soaking up tears that weren't mine, without a hint of wetness from my own eyes.

Her small body didn't shake, and she didn't sob. After a few minutes, she pulled away and just looked at me, all watery eyes and running mascara. Leave it to Alice to wear make-up in the hospital.

I wanted to return the smile, the tears, everything she had given me, but the words she spoke next stopped that smile dead in its tracks.

"Bella ... I'm paralyzed."

My entire being froze – mind, soul, heart, spirit, body.

"Wha – Alice?"

"It's okay." She was calm, placid. I was reeling. "The doctors said it's probably not completely irreversible. I can go to physical therapy, and keep working on it. I mean, I know it'll be hard but ..." I noticed her hand, absently stroking her leg. She smiled, almost dreamily.

I wondered how in the hell she could be dreamy at a time like this.

"Alice! Hard is an understatement! How are you going to work? How are you going to get around, to drive, to eat, to –"

"I'm not brain dead, Bella," she scowled, but her face softened immediately. "Look ... I know this is hard, and I – well, I kind of just sprang it on you, but ..." she grinned. "It's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Alice ... you're being cryptic again. It's annoying."

"Bella, you're jumping to conclusions." She straightened up, wiggling a little and tossing what hair she lad left. "I know I haven't given you much time to process everything, but it's all been happening really fast for me too."

I nodded. Alice had only woken up from her doctor-ordered, drug-induced coma twelve days ago. Her left eye was still swollen, her right arm still casted, and a few tiny nicks from pine needles still riddled her skin, but she looked as happy as ever. And she had moved back to talking twenty miles a minute.

"I didn't know how I was going to make it, Bella. When they told me there was a chance I might never walk again, I knew I couldn't do that to you – couldn't ask you to take care of me, just because we were roommates. But I couldn't figure out what to do. I didn't want to be stuck, never leaving my house. I couldn't do that to me. But then, he came up with a solution. He made it all work, Bella, and I know, I know you're going to be disappointed but I promise, I just have this feeling, it's going to all be okay. I mean, this is the first time since they gave me the news I've been happy, and I just can't - "

"Alice, slow down! You sound like you have a speech disorder."

"I know, I'm sorry, Bella, I'm just so excited and you had to be the first one to know, as long as you weren't mad at me. Which you're not mad at me, right?"

"No, Alice, I'm not mad." My eyebrow rose. "Know what?"

She squeaked a bit and then flung her hand beneath my nose – where a simple, glittering diamond dripped from her left ring finger, flanked by two smaller sapphires, the same color as Jasper's eyes.

"Jasper asked me to marry him! Bella, I'm moving out. Jasper wants to take care of me. He can drive me places during the day, and I can go to the bar with him at night, if I want. He bought his apartment with his inheritance, so he doesn't have to worry about rent. And Bella ... he loves me." She chuckled, the sound light, airy, and nearly disbelieving. "It doesn't matter that I'm broken, or crazy. He loves me. And he wants to be with me."

"Alice," I breathed, probably for her. "This is – I'm going to miss you?"

Her response was a joyful cackle.

"Yeah, you will. But it's not like we won't see each other. You'll just have an apartment all to yourself."

Wait.

"What?"

"You didn't think I'd kick you out of your home, did you?"

To be honest, I wasn't sure. I raised my eyebrow, skeptical. Alice laughed more.

"Of course not! Mom and Dad bought that apartment years ago, just so they could rent it out to whoever came along. They even made me pay them to live there. Anyhow, I've already talked to them, and they said they'd be happy to let you stay there – provided you pay the same rent you do now."

"Um ... I – thank you?" I stuttered. Everything was flying so fast; it felt like a hurricane had erupted, flying through my ocean of fear and leaving me no more room to doubt that Fate spun in the middle. And it was forcing me out into the open, with no more crutches.

"Of course." She sighed, eyes still alight, but sobered. "I couldn't leave you with nothing ... not again."

"You didn't leave me with nothing, Alice. It was my fault, too." I took the tiny hand and studied the glimmering, princess-cut diamond. "Maybe you should have asked, but ... I should have told you. I hid, and I pretended like nothing was wrong. I'm sorry, too. I should have been honest with you, from the beginning."

She snorted daintily.

"Well, maybe not from the beginning. I would've thought you were a raving loony."

"This is true," I nodded and snickered. Giving me a lopsided grin, Alice brushed hair form her forehead and sighed.

"I guess we were all a little selfish this time around."

"Yeah. Not again, though, right?" I raised an eyebrow.

"As much as I can help it."

The hinges squeaked behind us.

"You two kissed, hugged, made out, and all that?"

I shot Alice's fiancé my dirtiest look.

"Oh, shut up, Jasper."

Alice just giggled. Grinning, Jasper sauntered to Alice's side and planted a kiss on her forehead, absently rearranging the blankets and straightening her gown.

"See, you propose to a girl, you can do no wrong." He winked at me.

"Yeah, for the next twenty-four hours," I muttered.

Ignoring me, Alice snuggled into his torso, wrapping her arms around his waist. Jasper cradled her head and stroked her cheek. I tensed. The atmosphere was suddenly suffocating.

"Okay, well," I cleared my throat and slid from the bed, edging away. "I'm gonna … go do something."

The look on Edward's face – sorrow, broken tenderness, confusion torn by anger – all filtered over the happiness in Jasper's eyes. It was the same effortless adoration I had seen whenever he looked … at me. Before.

I was stifled. My lungs ceased to work. I picked up my jacket.

I closed the door softly behind me.

It was as though a 50 ton truck had barreled through and hit me squarely in the chest.

I walked.

I walked through the hallways, I walked down the stairs. I walked past the receptionist, I walked through the doors. I walked through the concrete and steel jungle of cars. I walked past the entrance and left the sun-warmed asphalt beneath my Chucks, under a hazy, cloud-shifting sky. On the outskirts of the hospital, where the parking lot backed into a thick, verdant forest, I walked towards a bench.

Probably there for smokers.

I shrugged my jacket closer and sat.

When I sat, I cried.

I cried for him, for the pain of not knowing, of never being able to grasp a certainty so easily taken for granted. I cried for her, for the pain of therapy, of hurt and the possibility of never walking again.

I cried for Esme, for the loss, so doubly felt, and yet so strongly received. I cried for friendship, for the past we would never know and the ache of years, accepting he would never enter our lives again. I cried for the lies and the insufficiencies which had brought us all, here, to this moment and to these broken moments.

And I cried for me.

I cried for the shock of discovery, of the senseless denial and days lost to insecurity. I cried for the torture of feeling his arms, wrapped so tightly, to carry me through what I couldn't survive alone. I cried for the failure of running away, and I cried for finally finding home.

Not once did I sob, or heave, or hiccup, or fight. They were simply rivulets of agony, of weariness and worry, creasing lines into my skin and drawing the hurt from my eyes and mind.

I cried until no tears were left, until the streaks hardened to my face, dried by a cloud-covered sun and chill late-December breeze. I cried, staring at the endless sea of blacktop, of chipped paint lines and wavering, dead, lifeless trees.

It was as though my insides were splitting open, my chest was breaking in half, and finally, _finally_, I knew what it was like ... to truly feel alive.

A fresh, untainted gust blew by me, stirring my hair and wrapping cold, comfortable stillness around me. It was sorrow incarnate, broken by an unsurpassable serenity; slumbering shadows which had hovered around my heart, swept away by a shimmering sun.

I was at peace.

It was instinctive, and my body seemed to latch on to the feeling, the calm, soothed, breathless peace that I couldn't explain, drinking it in like a parched desert flower in a monsoon.

I had emptied the pain, the hurt, the fear of rejection and expected to find nothing but emptiness left in return. Instead, I was overwhelmed with a physical relief, with the fullness of a hope for a new future.

I was free.

My revelation was interrupted by three quick vibrations in my coat pocket. I hesitated, glancing down before pulling it to my ear without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, Bells. Are you around?"_

"Yeah, Emmett, I'm ... outside of the hospital. What's up?"

_"What are you doing outside? It's nearly freezing."_

I sighed, simultaneously rolling my eyes and dragging my hand across my cheek. As if he could see me.

"I needed some time alone. Did you call me just to play twenty questions, or do you need something?"

_"Nah, nothing important. I just figured you might want to know, but if you don't, it's cool. Don't spit on the messenger, you know. You might not get the message."_

_What the ...?_

"Emmett, what in the hell are you talking about?"

_"I don't know."_

"Oh my God. Did you really call just to waste my time?"

"_Nope."_He popped the 'p'. I wanted to smack him.

I was on the verge of tossing out an absent threat about his sex toys or his jock strap when he interrupted my train of thought.

_"I just thought you might wanna know. Eddie the memory-less asked me to call you. Said he wanted to talk, if you were anywhere around."_

I waited for my heart to seize up, but instead, all I felt was more peace.

_"Gee, Emmett, thanks. Nice of you to mock the brain trauma patient."_Edward's voice echoed through the phone.

I chuckled.

"Tell him I'm on my way."

_"Sure thing, Iz."_

I noticed Esme as I walked through the halls. Her slim form was rigid, seated in cold plastic, staring through the glass and wall.

I passed by without a word.

The door felt heavier than before, my arms weaker, more worried – until I heard the laughter. Great, heaving bouts of laughter, some booming and some along a more even tenor, slightly more breathless.

I stepped around the edge, eyebrow raised.

"Hey, Em, you know he still _has_ stitches, right? I'd rather not have to clean up a bleed out." I scrunched my nose. "It's really not pretty." Placing one hand on Emmett's shoulder, I dropped my coat on the chair he sat in.

Both boys fought to calm themselves, wheezing unevenly through the remnants of laughter.

"See," Edward, struggling to breathe, ran a hand through his short hair, "I told you I was making the right decision." He winked at me. "And you questioned her caretaking abilities."

"Oh, come _on_ man, you cannot tell me you don't remember Jesus!"

_Oh, fuck … no he didn't._

"Emmett! You didn't!"

Both he and Edward erupted into unabashed laughter. I scowled.

"Look, it was _not_ my fault the damn thing decided to commit fishicide! Who knew goldfish could be lethally depressed?"

This only spurred them on. I couldn't help but grin, making my way around to the other side of Edward's bed before clearing out my own space and plopping down. His hand automatically came to rest on my leg.

Settling down once more, he absently stroked my jeans with his thumb. He glanced at Emmett before turning a sheepish gaze to me.

"I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to leave, before. I just ... I had a lot to sort through. You know," he tapped his temple, "up here."

"It's okay." I rolled my hand on top of his. "It should always have been your decision to make. I wasn't going to take it away from you again."

His quick exhale after I spoke surprised me. He looked at the mattress, then me, then Emmett.

"See?"

"Dude." Emmett stood from the chair, grinning. "I told you it was right from the second I walked in this joint." He winked at me. "And that, my friends, is curtain. Time for me to say adios." Learning over, he embraced Edward in that semi-awkward, macho half-hug I hadn't seen in years. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "See ya, Eddie. Rose's got filets ready to go at home, and I need sustenance. Maybe you should come over next week. Eat something filling, after all this liquid shit hospitals pass off as food."

"We'll see what my in-home nurse has to say."

Emmett laughed as he walked out of the room, the sound lingering even down the broad hallway. Edward shook his head and turned back to me.

"In-house nurse?" I couldn't keep the incredulousness out of my tone. I swear on my future grave, Edward blushed. Right then and there. His hand moved to his head, again.

"Yeah, um … I –" he huffed a sigh. "Damnit, Emmett."

My stomach sank and my heart fluttered all at once.

"It's okay." I couldn't swallow. "Just … say what you wanted to say. I'll pretend I never heard it. Swear."

I could never pretend I hadn't heard it. My guts wound into a thick, tight knot, pushing at the base of my spine.

Instead of showing it, I pulled myself straight and looked him in the eye.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

At least my years of hiding were coming in handy somewhere.

He was silent for a few moments, his eyes roaming both my figure and my face, eventually landing squarely in the depth of my eyes.

"Thank you, Bella." I opened my mouth, but he silenced me with a finger against my lips. "You have no idea what … the _truth_ feels like." My lips snapped shut. "I mean, I won't deny, it hurts, but … it's refreshing."

_Redemptive pain. _I knew that feeling well.

"And you were the only one willing to give that to me. So, thank you." He smiled, quietly, glancing away. "It's good to know I have someone I can trust."

The knot in my stomach swelled. He continued.

"As for me, and – who I am …" he trailed off, eyes falling back on the window, staring through me. "I wish – I could tell you. I – I want to know, for you, who I am." He moved back to focus on me, his fingers ghosting down my neck and across my collarbone. "But I'm afraid … I can't." His gaze flickered down and then up, glancing across my expression. "I'm too much of two people, Bella … and, I need them both."

I kept my face passive, but my mind swam, searching for answers. He frowned.

"Now … on to us." Leaning backwards, he pulled his arm up in an invitation – for me to sink into his side. But I couldn't be so near to him … not without knowing. On a whim, I wrapped my hand around his knee. He leaned forward, brow furrowed.

"Bella. I can't be without you. Not seeing you … it would be suicide. The thought of you getting here, of seeing your eyes flash, hearing the sheer sarcasm …" he ran trembling knuckles across my cheek, "of being able to invoke that adorable blush." He grinned, and my cheeks reddened. "All of it gets me through the hours you're _not _here. I'm ready to get out of here, to play music again, to try and find myself. But I need you by my side."

He stopped, watched me. I was frozen.

"I'm broken, Bella. My whole life … what I know of who I am, it's not whole. I've been torn in half." He hesitated, watching me, before diving in and dragging us both to the bottom. "If I choose to be … if I can't separate them … can you love both Edward – _and_ Trevor?"

I stared at him.

I didn't know. I had spent so long loving Edward, my friend … this – decision – had never occurred to me. Could I? Could I learn to love both of the men he had become?

That old cliché, a fish out of water? It was written _all_ over me.

My mouth hung open, speechless. His gaze flickered away, nervous.

"If you can't, I understand. I mean, I know, you said you wanted to be here for me, but you deserve someone who can choose, who doesn't cop out because he can't figure it out. I won't blame you, and I can always just move back in with … with _them_." The last word dripped off and hung in the air, littered with disdain, and I was speaking without thought.

"Where else would you go? Do you want to move out on your own? Did they offer?"

"Yeah, they offered." He was quiet, not meeting my eyes. "They offered a lot, but I told them no. I can't be caught in their world and figure out who I am. I need … someone unbiased. Someone who knows me."

"They know you."

"Yeah, they do." He smirked lightly, eyes falling on our still joined hands, my fingers woven in between his tubes, small and thin in the middle of his scars. "But you know me better. Bella," his breathing was breaking, "I want to live with you."

"What?"

It was little more than a squeak, but at least this time I wasn't speechless. I couldn't move, absolutely frozen; my heart ceased to throb. Every hair stood on end, my skin immediately erupted in a light sheen of sweat.

Half of me ran screaming from the room at that instant, unable to breathe in the midst of the commitment emanating from his words.

The other half of me sat, stared – and actually contemplated. I thought of him. I thought of me. I thought of the heart that was pounding from my chest, the head that knew his past, knew his pain, and knew the struggles that would layer my – our – days. But it also knew of the joy which would overwrite and undermine any and every battle.

The small victories which could win this war.

He needed someone to hold him up, but so did I. Time had broken him, but the pain had broken me. We were _both_ just pieces, and I was finally learning to heal.

Could I wait for him to learn, too? Yes.

Would I wait for him?

"Yes."

We had and would wait for each other. _Forever._

My heart began to beat again, a calm, steady thump, certain and at peace. His eyes met mine, unsurprised from the moment they snared me.

"Okay?" His hand left my leg and brushed the length of my neck, ending at rest on my arm.

"Okay." I nodded, simultaneously over and underwhelmed, as if I had been waiting for this, without ever knowing. This acceptance. This peace. This moment.

So many battles down.

Our war leaned a little less towards the impossible.


	21. Chapter Twenty: Finding  Me

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Yet" as performed by Switchfoot or "Warm Whispers" as performed by Missy Higgins, and I will not be earning income from using these materials. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

**A/N:** Welcome to ... the end. :) We've come to the final (full) chapter, my friends, and, in doing so, to the reason this story is rated M. So ... I hope you enjoy the little lemon I've left you.

There will be a short epilogue to follow, just to round out everyone's lives and tie up a few loose ends, so I'm not marking this story as complete quite yet. Be expecting this in the next few weeks, as my pilgrimmage (:D) to Forks/La Push/Seattle will not allow me to sit down to any more writing before next Thursday.

To **clarabella75**, thank you for being an awesome beta, an amazing friend, and an even better teacher. :) You've have helped me fix even grammar that I didn't think was even possible, and have helped me to form a work I can be proud of.

To all of my amazing readers ... I can't say everything I want to say to you here and now, because it would be an entire chapter all it's own. Suffice to say ... I will be sending you my love as soon as I can.

**Lemon Disclaimer - **No condoms were used in the making of the (below) lemon, simply because there were none available, Edward's only sex partner was Rose, Bella was a virgin, and not EVERYONE gets pregnant the first and only time they've ever had unprotected sex.

**HOWEVER, this is not a recommended action! Do not have unprotected sex with just anyone!**

This has been your public service announcement.

Now grab your favorite beverage, a warm blanket, and settle in for this **longest** of chapters. I hope it satiates your every want. ;-)

Much love and happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty:**  
**Finding … Me**

x0x0x0x0x0x

_These days pass me by  
__I dream with open eyes  
__Nightmares haunt my days  
__Visions blur my nights  
__I'm so confused  
__What's true or false  
__What's fact or fiction after all  
__I feel like I'm an apparition's pet_

_But you haven't lost me yet_

"How are … things?"

I stared past Emmett and his whispering, self-conscious words to the still frame in front of the leaky kitchen sink, hunched over one crutch.

He hadn't moved in hours.

"How do things look, Em." I couldn't hold back the sorrow and sarcasm etched into my tone. I needed to reach him, so I gave up my ability to hide.

"Have you gotten through yet?"

I shook my head, silent. I had wondered, once, when the questions would come … when the wounds would open, baring everything to the present. If I had known what tearing off those bandages would do, however, I would have hidden him away from the world. I could barely bring myself to blame Esme anymore.

"I should probably head home. Rose's waiting for me to pick her up." Emmett fumbled with the reason for his visit, shoving the velvet box into his pocket and tugging at the rope around his neck. The tie was a nice touch, but barely the man I knew.

So much had changed in a mere six weeks.

I socked him in the shoulder.

"She'd be crazy to say no. Just … stop chewing on your lip," I pulled the offending object from his teeth with my thumb, "you might drool." He opened his mouth to retort and, grimacing, I pointed at his mouth. "Which, by the way, is gross."

A giant, warm paw fit nicely on the crown of my head, mussing my hair into indelicate knots.

"Ha ha, Bells. Funny. I'll tell Rose you said hi?" Emmett eyes cut to the waning figure, barely visible past the kitchen entryway as we walked towards the front door. His volume sank to a whisper. "Both of you?"

"Please?" Again, I couldn't keep the insistence out of my words. "It's better that way. To not worry anyone."

My pillar of support snorted.

"Bella." My name was a sigh, his eyes riddled with compassion – for me.

_Don't let yourself fall back into denial_, they said.

I crossed my arms over my chest, petulant. Emmett tugged them apart, brushing hair from my forehead.

"He hasn't seen anyone in weeks, Bella … he's slipping. They might not know like you and me … but they know. Can you do this alone, little Bells?"

_No._

That word resonated soundly.

"No, Em," I shook my head. "I really can't."

I remembered Alice's intervention, not so many months ago. She had done it for me. It was the least I could do for him. And it was time. I straightened and fell into Emmett's warm arms.

"But I can do it with him. I just have to find him." _Again._ "And I will. Promise."

"Okay." He grinned, cheeky, and squeezed me a little tighter. "See ya, Izzy."

The nickname brushed through me.

"Good luck, Em."

He winked before closing the door behind him.

I stood in the silence for a few moments, heart soaking up the leftover, rioting emotions. Twilight faded through the blinds, an early end to a wintry day, and I picked up the pieces of me before walking back towards the kitchen. Nonchalantly, I opened the fridge and pulled out a soda.

He didn't flinch.

"So …" I popped the tab.

He didn't speak.

I meandered. I ended up on the side of him, his eyes fixated below us, through the window … lost.

I studied him.

Wane cheeks with heavy rings defined solid eyes, fading in their flourish for life. He was leaner, but not in muscle; every aspect of what made him both Edward and Trevor was smaller, weaker, dying away. He wouldn't look me in the eye, but it wasn't hard to see every bit of hollow emptiness which had haunted me, reflected outwards in a glossy stare.

He was at the precipice. And I was holding him back by fingertips.

"_You were cute." _

_I blushed – furiously. He laughed and waved the glossy image around. _

"_And your cheeks are still a perfect shade of pink." _

_I snatched the picture from between his fingers. _

"_Don't make me shred that one." _

_Eyes widened in mock terror, and he frantically snatched for the image of seven-year-old me and our white golden retriever, Blizzard. I sat on it. _

"_If you want it, come get it." _

"_No fair." _

"_All's fair in love and war." _

_Edward rolled his eyes. _

_Grinning, I pulled the black box into my lap and dug in, letting the photographs glide across my fingertips like wet paint._

"_Wow, Emmett looks … "_

"_Different?" I snorted, leaning sideways to look over his arm. A husky, pimpled, pre-teen mass of Emmett McCarty licked a long popsicle, brilliant streaks of sunlight filtering through the imperfections in the frame. _

"_Summer never lasted long in Forks … but we never took it for granted." He flipped to the next picture of all three of us, bathing suit clad and mud-splattered, a messy dirt hole and running garden hose slipping out of frame behind our smiling faces. _

"_I think I remember this …" _

_I sat back and glanced at him, eyebrow raised. _

"_Yeah." He leaned against my headboard, eyelids shut. "We were at your house … your mom … Renee, she got __so__ mad at us. But your dad just laughed it off and threw you back into the puddle, spraying us all with the hose." He chuckled. "Your mom threatened to leave him that day, but I don't think we took it seriously –" _

"_I did." I cut through his memory with a whisper, eyes squeezed tight. Thin tears threatened to spill, but I held them in. "I was so worried … but you told me that grown-ups always said stupid things, things they didn't mean. Then you snuck me into the kitchen, where they were kissing." His presence hung near me. I opened my eyes. His were fixed on every word. "And you said 'See? True love can't be broken, silly.'" _

"_Did you care for me, Bella?" _

_The words came so suddenly, I was blindsided into honesty. _

"_Yes. Very much." _

_He didn't speak, instead shuffling back to the pictures sitting on his leg. Only seconds had passed when I felt him stiffen. The motion rocked the entire bed. _

"_Edward?" _

"_Are these …" _

_I didn't have to see the picture to answer him; the look on his face said it all. Regardless, I moved across the mattress, closer to his rigid frame. My heart clenched._

"_Your parents." Water splattered against the gloss, a stray tear. "The ones who raised you, at least." _

_He didn't speak … at first. When he did, the words were even, measured. _

"_You said that my birth mother … she ran off, right?" _

_I nodded, biting my tongue. Mothers were a sore subject for me … I never wanted to give myself the chance to do the same to any child of mine. He continued, not noticing my grimace._

"_Tell me … please … what happened to them." _

_Everything in me sank, but I had known, three weeks ago, as I shoved books and boxes into a room once occupied by a much smaller woman, that this day would come. I was surprised it had taken this many memories, this much digging and bleeding and healing for us to finally reach this point._

_The sharpest point … of absolute honesty._

If only I had known that absolute honesty would wreak what seemed to be the beginnings of absolute destruction.

My fingertips, the ones tying him to this earth, grazed his shoulder.

"Hey. You hungry?"

He flinched at my voice.

"Not really." His voice was dry, like cracks ridden into the dirt of Death Valley "What time is it?" He wouldn't look at me. I knew why. I would see it.

I glanced at the clock.

"Eight-fifteen."

He nodded, a dip of the head.

"Actually, I think I'm going to go to bed."

"To get no sleep?"

It slipped. The words were there before I could re-inhale them, and I hesitated, choosing finally to face them, hanging there, between us.

He stopped, five paces into his retreat, and turned.

It was there, beyond the mourning, beyond the guilt and the fear … buried deep in the bits of him I could still see. It pleaded with me to find him.

To prove him wrong.

"Goodnight, Bella."

The sound of lost footsteps stiffened my resolve.

_If it doesn't break your heart, it isn't love  
__If it doesn't break your heart, it's not enough  
__It's when you're breaking down with your insides coming out  
__That's when you find out what your heart is made of_

_And you haven't lost me yet_

O~o~O~o~O

"He's not sleeping, Alice. He's barely eating, he won't come to therapy … I'm just … I'm lost."

Thin, petite eyebrows raised in amusement before crashing back down in pain. She panted a bit as I maneuvered her knee outwards.

"Gee …Bella … sound … familiar?" Each word was cut with a sharp breath, but I was used to it by now. Jasper couldn't usually take Alice to her physical therapy sessions, so I had stepped in, becoming her physical therapy partner. The doctors called her a 'walking miracle,' although she, ironically, still couldn't walk on her own.

No one, however, made light of the progress she made after the final spinal surgery had revived most of the feeling in her legs – and made her aware of the torn knee ligaments which had to be replaced immediately.

"No," I grinned. Alice attempted to roll her eyes, but was caught off guard by a sharp stab of pain.

"Well," she huffed, "I'm really … really … glad … you finally … decided … to share." I released her leg, lowering the limb slowly to the floor, and she slouched against the support bar, thin bands of sweat rolling across her forehead. "So what brought this on? He seemed like he was doing really well. You know, considering."

I frowned.

"I don't think that's a good idea. It's his issue to deal with."

I couldn't confess my part. It hurt to admit – his downfall had been me and my big mouth. There was a reason they said white lies were worth it.

Alice wouldn't relent.

"It's a fine idea. I already know all the rest of his business."

I switched tactics.

"But I don't know yours. Enough about him, how's Jasper?"

Alice snicker snorted.

"Bella, you're avoiding."

"How's work?"

"They're both fine. Stop it." Crossing her arms over her chest, she fixed me with the 'mother eye.' "You're hiding something, and you need to let it go."

Six weeks was too long since our mutual cohabitation. I had forgotten about her annoying clairvoyance. I could try to hide all I wanted, but I wouldn't be keeping any secrets from Alice.

I let it go.

"It's my fault, Alice." She was silent, watching me. "I told him the truth, and I don't know why. I just – went crazy, I guess, with my rampage for everything being out in the open." I couldn't even bring myself to cry. The words simply slipped from my lips, a noxious vapor I could barely stand to hold inside anymore. "I broke him, Alice. I decided to be a crusader, and I cut into pieces the best person I've ever known."

There. It was out, and Alice could condemn me however she liked.

To say the least, her reaction was not what I expected.

"Oh, please." Then she rolled her eyes.

I sat, stunned, uncertain if I had just been blown off or verbally slapped in the face.

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Bella. I love you, but seriously, learn from the past and stop being such a martyr."

I wanted to leap from my seat across from her and ram her pretty head into the wooden bar, but her eyes pinned me to the worn metal.

"And don't get your panties in a wad, either." She rolled her eyes again.

Someone really should have told her they would stick that way.

"Look," with two quick jerks, she scooted her chair closer to mine, "it's okay to be upset. Cry, complain, get it out, do what you have to. You're right … he isn't doing well, and he needs help. I don't blame you for blaming yourself … I mean, when you went catatonic, I nearly went insane." She nodded once and lifted her right leg with an arm, propping it on the lower bar. "I was blaming myself, trying to figure out why, who could fix it, what to do, until I realized something very important – none of it really mattered."

Lying backwards, she plopped her upper body into my lap and took my hand. "What really mattered was you. Getting you to talk, to open up to someone. You needed to let it go, and to move beyond … whatever was eating you alive." Her bright eyes were honestly insistent. "He needs to talk to you … because I think you're the only person he'll let close enough to try."

I could barely believe it … but Alice was right. I was taking it all too literally. It wasn't, and yet it was, about me. I had to reach him … but it seemed as though I was the only one who could do it.

A wave of uncertainty rimmed with irritation struck me in the chest.

"How am I supposed to do that, Alice? I can't get him to say more than four words."

"Well … there's ambush. There's bribery. And there's just plain old knowing what to say."

I snorted. "Good luck on the third one."

"True. But sometimes, you know, getting it right … it can take a little of all three."

I was screwed.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Be honest. Show him you care. Show him you want to help. And most of all? Show him himself." She shrugged, watching her ankle move in slow circles. "We're usually the only people we can't stand up to."

I blinked twice.

"You know, Alice? I think you've been living with Jasper too long."

O~o~O~o~O

_Your warm whispers  
__Out of the dark they carry my heart  
__Into the dawn they carry me through  
__And I'm weeping warm honey and milk  
__That you stay surrounding me, surrounding me_

_Your warm whispers,  
__Letting me drown in a pool of you_

Sleep was an elusive mistress.

I counted the dents in the popcorn ceiling while I listened to the small, rasping shudders of crutch against laminate. I couldn't bring myself to go down, to let him know that I had heard him.

But I would have to.

He was torturing himself, and, whether or not it was my fault, in the end, I held myself responsible.

"_Tell me … please … what happened to them." _

"_It wasn't pretty, Edward." _

"_I don't care." He brushed the hair from my shoulder, lingering at my chin. "They aren't here. They're my history, and now they're dead … and I want to know why." _

"_Okay." I leaned into his palm, cradling his touch, and trusting myself to let the words flow in the right way._

_Not __thinking__ about what I said. _

"_I was fourteen … so I didn't __understand__. I wasn't even around all that long after – well, after everything. It was barely two years before Renee decided I would be better off living with the McCartys than her, but I watched everything from the outside." _

_I paused, memories a rampant chaos I couldn't bring to words. Her drawn, haunted expression at his funeral. Ellen McCarty's face, she and her husband sitting at a rough hewn table, explaining ... why__I wasn't allowed to visit anymore. Her mangled, bruised limbs and red puddles … so dark and deep. _

"_Their lives … dissolved, Edward. Your father, after a few months, quit his job… Elizabeth sold things, sometimes … they loved each other, and I think, at first, they tried. But it just … tore them apart. I'm still not convinced … but I wasn't there, in the house, Edward. I just saw what was there, for the world to see." I swallowed and chanced a glance at his eyes. They were hard. I pushed forward, a slow fear building, driving. I couldn't stop._

"_I went to visit, sometimes, to be closer to you. Or, at least, what I thought was you. Elizabeth never let me inside. We always sat on the porch. I asked her once, when I saw the bruise on her arm, but she said she ran into the counter. _

"_A few months later, maybe a year after your funeral, your father … well, he drank himself to death. He was hit by a passing car after being kicked out of a bar in Port Angeles. I don't know, I guess … everything in him just ruptured. His body couldn't take the abuse anymore. And I guess … she couldn't either." _

_Red, thick, and sticky … just beyond the door. Young, sharp screams … my screams. The images, so long buried, surfaced, floating for a few moments before I drowned them again. I had found her in my final goodbye, after the McCarty's ultimatum … Elizabeth __Masen, __suspended in a pool of crimson tears, leaking from her wrists … _

_Some things were never meant to be remembered. _

"_She died, a few days later." I leapt forward, hiding the truth. The self-inflicted cuts and bruises the coroner had found on her lank arms and legs. "She couldn't live … without the two of you, I guess." The bed shifted around me. I looked up from where my gaze had fallen, sorting through memories I worked to forget. _

_I inhaled sharply. _

_He was glassy, shattered, and faded._

"_I know." He stepped towards the door. "I'm sorry … I broke you, Bella." _

_My heart ceased to beat, but I couldn't find him as he walked, soulless, from the room. _

I could have lied … I could have said things so much more simply, said they just passed away from grief, in their sleep, peacefully … something, anything better than that truth. The ravaged, fucked up place which some people make their lives, simply because they can't understand or accept things mean more_. _

And now he was falling, right behind them.

I lifted myself from bed, slipping my robe on loosely over my pajamas. I was silent on the staircase, padding gently to the living room and peaking around into the kitchen. He was in front of the window, again.

Well … he would make his way into the living room eventually. Ambush, check.

Sliding back a few steps, I sank into the leather and watched, waiting, until he paced past me without a word.

"No wonder you've been so tired."

His head slid up, eyes meeting mine. Anger flared before smoothing to embers.

"I just had to use the bathroom."

"For the past two hours?" My eyebrow crooked. I stood and stretched. No escape for him this time.

His expression was flat.

"How long have you been up?"

"As long as you have." I stepped closer, brushed my hand over his shoulder. "Talk to me, please." Insistence slipped through, pressing forward, bargaining and threatening with words. "Don't drown yourself, Edward – Trevor, whoever you want to be, tell me. _Let_ me help you_ –_"

"You can't." He nearly hissed the words. "I don't want you to."

Hollow bitterness was all I tasted, seeping through his voice and into my heart. I had been wrong again, when I assumed he wanted me to find him, when I assumed that he was unable to speak.

He didn't want to talk to me. He had been pushing me away.

"But … you said –"

"I was sick and desperate. I didn't mean everything I said." Harsh, bitten words, but his eyes softened when they flickered over me. I felt frozen, unable to move, breathe – react.

"I know you loved me. But let me go, Bella." The desperate sadness in his eyes nearly made me sick. "I'm no good for you."

He stepped away, out of my grasp and nearly out of my hearing, and I thought I was shattering, swirled up in a mass of pain and thick, steady disbelief, until his whispered words that I'm sure, to this day, he never knew I heard, floated through the haze of anguish and hit me with cold, hard reality.

"I'm no good for anyone."

He was gone.

I was left with the truth … and yet another decision.

Each time we're left with a decision, it seems as though we have come to a fork in the river of our lives. Every action, every reaction, is a turning point, a choice we make to set us in a new direction, either stronger, or that much more broken.

I could have walked away. I could have let him be, respected his words and hoped he would come around. I could have lain down and rolled over, given in and whimpered away, the ultimate cop out while I went back to faking dead.

I could have done any number of things, but every single one of those decisions would never have landed me in the same place, in the same future I saw now.

It was there, in that moment, I made a different choice … a harder choice. All because of one simple truth which yanked at me, tugging me like a rubber band ready to snap in the opposite direction.

I loved him too much to walk away.

I snagged a knife from a kitchen drawer and made my way resolutely down the hall.

I wish I had my camera with me, just so I could have captured the look on his face when I picked the lock on his bedroom door.

"You're wrong," I stepped in, brushing hair from my face and shutting the door, casting the room in semi-darkness. Moonlight streamed through the window, and I almost swore that the copper streaks highlighting his ragtag mess glittered in the translucent beams.

He stuttered.

I held up the kitchen knife before laying it on the dresser near the entryway.

"Emmett taught me a lot of things. You've never really liked any of them."

I stepped forward until I was mere feet from where he sat by the open window, bathed in natural light, it's soft blue and creamy white hues falling lusciously over everything it touched, blanketing the world in a surreal haze. Quietly, I sat on my knees and laid my head in his lap, my stomach winding and unwinding in intricate knots. My nerves were aflame, my fingers twitching at his nearness like they hadn't in weeks. I forcibly ignored my body's inevitable reaction to everything that was him.

I simply prostrated myself and let my words be heard.

"We are good for each other, Edward." His legs tensed beneath my arm. "And you're not going to push me away, no matter what you try to do; even if you move out, or avoid me for the rest of our natural lives … I'll still love you. And I will never stop chasing you." His breathing shallowed, leaving me cringing inside at the raspy, hollow sound.

"Why?" The word was a sigh, a bath of warm, tinted air washed over my head while his hands tendered my scalp, digging into the lengths of hair hanging by his knees.

My heart thudded, chest trembling.

"Because … you're the other piece of me. With you I laugh … I breathe … I feel whole and fulfilled and at peace. I know where I belong." Tears welled as I thought of losing him, breaking at even the chance of another day not knowing he was alive. "Without you, I know who I am, but … I don't know how to be that person. And I don't ever want to forget who that person is again."

The heat of his breath hovered over my hair; strong, lean arms encircled the top of me, encasing me and filtering warmth. His limbs tightened around me, and he lifted me up, drawing me into his lap in one smooth motion.

My hands moved of their own accord, finding the back of his head and tightening against the warm, smooth skin as he stretched into the crevice of my neck, lips meeting to plant a light kiss before somehow both cradling me and turning his face away from mine.

"I love you, Bella – Isabella, whoever you are to me –"

–_ Izzy_, my heart cried –

"– and I never want you to forget that person, because she is the most beautiful person I have ever known, in either lifetime and every memory I can conjure up. But me … this ... person, that I am … I'm no good for her. I break her, every time." His voice faded, nearly a whisper. "Just like I broke them."

Understanding dawned within me, soft and gentle, delicate and expectant. My fingers toyed with the growth lining his neck.

"I was broken, Edward … it's true." Soft smiles hinted in my words. "But you've put me back together, so many times –"

"What happens when I can't? What happens when I shatter you, because I can't remember, because I can't come back from the dead and be who you need me to?"

"Edward, look at me." He didn't respond, so I gently tugged at his chin with my fingertips. "My love, the light of my soul, why can't you understand? I will always break, but the one to show me how to put me back together? It's you. You're the only one who can."

I released the grasp I had on my robe. The fabric slid a few inches down my shoulders.

Light shivers danced across my skin as his eyes swept my form, the slope of my shoulders, cut by the thin tank top … and no underwear.

"Your parents … they weren't strong enough to survive on their own, because they lost sight of who they were long before."

I pulled my shoulders and arched my back, allowing the fabric to slide further down my body, this time past my breasts, where the thin locket hung, dangling gently between them.

"But I – we aren't like them. We've survived without them, apart from each other. And we lived."

Shimmying lightly, I shivered as the garment fell completely from my limbs, hanging over my lover's lap. He swallowed thickly before bringing his eyes to my chest. His brows furrowed gently before smoothing out, and his hand immediately spread between my breasts – directly over the locket, pressing the cold metal into my overheated skin. Nerves sprouted from the roots to the tips of me, flaring in rapid succession.

I didn't steady my breathing. Instead, I allowed the rasping hunger to penetrate my words.

"The difference is, I don't want to live without you." Eyes met, centering on each other. "Ever again. I want to wake up next to you, eat breakfast with you, change clothes with you, play video games with you. I want to hold your hand and watch TV with you. I want to buy you gifts, cook for you, walk in the rain with you. I want to wear your favorite hoodie when I'm cold. I want to snuggle in bed with you, mess up your hair, kiss you goodnight, and fall asleep by your side, every night for the rest of our lives. I love you, Edward Anthony Mason Trevor Cullen. I love you. All of you."

Two pieces, made four, were shifting into one.

Like one, his lips met mine, pressing hungrily against me, nearly devouring me alive. I pushed him away and stood, knowing full well what he would see.

My figure, outlined in pink, duck printed underwear and a thin white tank, bathed in moonlight. A few steps backwards and I sat, bouncing lightly on his bed. He followed and was on me in an instant, his hands ghosting along my arms, nose pressed to my neck, lips trailing kisses around my ear.

"Bella," my name was low, a husky breath, "if you don't want this –"

"No," I murmured. "I want this. More than you know." My throat was suddenly dry. "But you have to know where I stand."

He met my gaze, eyebrow raised, but his eyes widened suddenly at what I can only imagine was the paralyzed fear swimming in the expectancy I had tried to hide in my own. His hands moved to entwine with my own.

"Bella –"

"I'm a virgin." I spit out the words, the poison I knew would one day cross my lips. I had just hoped it would happen when I was drunk … not sitting, half-naked, in front of the man I loved more than my own life.

"What – I – " he stuttered a bit before fixing me with a look I couldn't understand. "Bella … are you sure this is what you want? If you've been saving it – "

"For you," I nearly sighed into his hands, leaning forward to rest on his chest, which rose and fell evenly. "I've been waiting for you. I could never give myself to anyone else. I love you." My hand slid beneath his t-shirt. "I want you." His eyes closed and he groaned lightly under his breath as instinct drove my fingers to trace the waistband of his sleep pants. "Show me. Love me." My nails found the beginnings of curly, thick hair. I scratched gently. He nearly choked, his eyes falling languidly to meet mine. "Please. Teach me."

"Oh, Bella," he groaned, falling on top of me and pressing my body to the mattress. "You don't seem like you need any teaching to me."

His lips fit perfectly against mine, sparking warmly with cinnamon and soap. I breathed, capturing the very essence of the man hovering over me, whose very presence scrambled my brains into well done eggs.

Pleasure radiated through me. His hands delicately traced my ribs, brushing the sides of each breast simultaneously.

"I happen – to remember – this particular – tank top – got me into a lot – of trouble," he muttered around the delicate touch of his lips trailing down my neck, past my collarbone, and finally to where fabric met skin. "And I don't think it deserves to stay here much longer."

One eyebrow rose.

Grinning, I lifted my arms above my head and allowed him to pull the offending fabric from my body. My breasts fell out, unrestrained, and bounced lightly before coming to rest against the open air. I shivered at the hunger in his eyes.

He left the locket on, hanging between the objects his fingers literally twitched to touch, but I pressed one arm over them and pointed with the other at his own garb.

"You," my finger flitted in his general direction, "are wearing far too much clothing."

Without another word, his shirt and sleep pants were off, leaving him in a pair of light blue, checkered boxers – his erection straining lightly against the thin fabric.

"Better?"

I couldn't speak, stunned speechless and simply longing to devour his nude form, but he never gave me the chance. With a low chuckle, he straddled my waist, pinning me to the bed and snaring my wrists with one hand.

"I'd say we're about even now, wouldn't you?" His voice was low, for my ears alone.

My insides came apart. My hips twitched lightly with anticipation. The skin around my wrists burned, and yet the excitement at the slight restraint both surprised and invigorated me with pleasure. That same slow knot was forming near the pit of my stomach.

It tightened when the pad of his thumb brushed across my soft nipple, causing it to pebble with sensation. I sucked in a tight breath and moaned lightly.

"You like that," he mumbled, absently.

I couldn't have opened my eyes if I wanted to; I was so lost in simply feeling. Edward's voice, however, lit fires all over me, as with each new sensation, he seemed to be testing me.

I gasped lightly when his tongue swirled around my breast, coming to rest on my nipple and flicking lightly, sending pleasure radiating down my spine to the heat spreading through my toes. His fingers dipped against the back of my knee, eliciting squirms of delight. His graceful lips glided down my stomach, lower than my naval, to the edge of my cotton undies, where they stopped.

I frowned, sniffing in protest.

He laughed.

"So impatient, little one." Heat, sweet and tender, brushed my ear. "But I'm not done toying with the rest of you yet." In one smooth, slow motion, he slid the panties down my waiting legs.

Oxygen, sucked from the room, left my lungs empty and heaving for air.

But nothing could compare to his fingers.

Instruments of torture, which, placed with his lips and tongue, tasted all of me, teasing and taunting with words seared into my memory for all time. The knot winding thick and tight in my stomach swelled, growing with each passing pain and pleasure, a throbbing heat to pulse over me, sweeping through and searing me.

I was branded with him – I would never be this for another.

What I never expected, however, was the absolute intensity of my own hunger when I felt his erection, hard as satin covered steel, pressed against the inside of my thigh.

Curiosity was instantaneous; of course it was – I had never really seen or handled one before.

My hands were at his waist, fingers wrapped gently around the long shaft before I could think. The sounds escaping him in a rush of breath brought my surprised eyes to his face.

_Me? I – I did that?_

Power, borne on waves of adrenaline, filled me, my own arousal temporarily forgotten and yet altogether heightened by the discovery of my effect on him.

"Bella," he panted, and I dragged my fingertips upwards. He nearly collapsed, falling to the side as I came to straddle him. Gazes locked.

"May I – please?"

His eyes fluttered closed and he swallowed thickly before nodding. I think his dick may have actually twitched in my hand.

I didn't know it could do that.

I stroked the length of him a few times, studying this part of him, the piece of man I had never known. I twisted my wrist to feel him shudder, painted my fingertips with the sweet, slick wetness clinging to the top and slide my palm down the shaft. His hand immediately gripped my wrist.

"Gentle, Bella," he sighed, eyes closed. "It's been a long, long while. Be careful of the top." His lids suddenly snapped upwards. "And don't think … you have to."

"Have to …" I trailed off, confused. He grinned.

"Have to do any more than you want. I don't expect you to be perfect."

_Oh. Giving head._

I ran my hand around again, loving the slick, thick feel of it pulsing against my palm. Now that I thought about it, I almost felt … driven.

My tongue flicked against the head. Salt, with an edge of sweet, settled on my tongue. I wrapped my lips around it, sliding down, barely reaching the middle before his tip found the back of my throat. I pulled back, unintentionally pursing my lips, and creating just enough suction for my lips to pop from the end.

A throaty moan was my reward. Fire licked in my veins, and I felt the pulsing heat below, the twisting in the pit of my stomach back in full force at the extent of his desire. I continued to taste, my tongue wrapping around the shaft, enjoying my treat like an ice cream cone of the most flavorful chocolate.

His hands found my hair, alternately tugging at the roots and spreading across my scalp, shots of electricity winding down my neck, until he finally tugged a little harder, pulling my lips from around him.

"Oh Bella, please …" harsh, stuttered breathing cut through his words, his eyes a dark, forest green, hovering over me, and he licked his lips before they crashed to mine.

Hot, heavy warmth, tender caresses, and twisted cinnamon were all I could feel, bathing me in an incense heavy ocean of only him. His lips found my skin and mine found his – soap and sheets and warmth and man. His fingers found my center, the tip pressing inwards, and my petals unfurled.

His words crushed my senses, cutting through the haze.

"Let me have you, love." Twisting, teasing knots, white hot heat from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes, wild and heavy abandon, running rampant. Slick, swirling grace, and he had found me, found my core, my roots, my soul.

Sharp breath, trailing across me in waves.

His impertinent growl.

"I want you for mine."

I nearly came undone.

_I want to be yours!_

I could only nod.

His fingers left their blessed niche. Seconds passed, my heart thrumming in my chest, hummingbird wings.

Pressure, slight and taut. One hand found my face, cupping it to his own, foreheads joined. The other found my hand and pulled it to him, and his eyes … deep, dark, heavy with love, lust, and uncertainty.

"Are you sure?"

Forever rested in his eyes. I knew.

"Yes. I love you, Edward. I wouldn't share the pain with anyone else."

One long, sharp thrust, and I gasped. He stopped, settling, eyes closed, stroking my brow. Pain radiated through me, and I knew … I knew it hurt, worse than any pain before, but I would live.

We would live … and love … and the pain would lessen, each day, until it disappeared forever.

A few halted breaths later, I pulled back with my hips, arching my back, and he followed. Each stroke was pain, lessened by the stroke before, dropping away piece by piece. And for each piece that fell, another dropped, stoking the flame, pleasure building through the heat. Twisting, turning love, sparked senses returning with the white hot heat.

His hand found my breast, palming the soft flesh.

The pain slid away.

We moved, nearly as one, easy and extraordinary, a creature of effortless beauty. I felt him, needed him, hungered for him as I never had.

If I had been branded before? Now, I was a piece of him, beating as steadily as his heart.

His hands worked as he grew thicker, larger, longer, filling me to the hilt and beyond. I felt it, spiraling from my control, thick waves of an ocean I would willingly drown in. It consumed me, flames finding my body, and I gave in. I wanted to be lost, to forget anything but the pleasure, pulsing around me.

It swelled, around and above and under and into me, and I could do nothing but feel, a warm, rapturous litany of burning love, need, and hunger, sated in one unending breath.

In an instant, he stilled, allowing me to ride the waves of pleasure which lapped at my core and spread a satisfying warmth through my limbs, but I wouldn't let him go unfulfilled.

I moved again, my hands wrapping around his neck, pulling my body towards him, deeper and faster, further and stronger. His sighed into my neck and I watched as his eyes flickered, his face tensed, his back arched.

My fascination was unbound as I felt it rattle through me; his orgasm, every bit as pleasurable as my own.

I pulled him to me, sweat soaked skin clinging to that of its counterpart.

"I love you, Isabella." His warm whispers brushed my ear. "I'm not leaving you ever again. I will fight with everything I have to stay with you this time." His arms stretched around me, melding us together, still connected and yet closer than I had ever imagined possible.

Words, so familiar, echoed lazily in my memory.

_"I'm not leaving you Izzy, I promise. I will fight with everything I have to stay right by your side."_

_"Do you promise?"_

_"Isabella Marie Swan, I vow to stay with you for as long as you live, so long as you want and need me."_

He pressed his cheek to mine before he slid sideways, one arm draped across my stomach. I turned and sidled into his shoulder, my head on his chest, and he cradled me.

"Do you promise?"

Fingertips, hovering over my arm and sweeping goose flesh across my skin, stilled suddenly. His body stiffened lightly beside me, but he didn't pull away. I waited, barely breathing, and on the edge of cracking some heinous joke to break the tension when he rolled over, wrapping me in himself and nuzzling my hair.

"Isabella Marie Swan …" his breathing hitched, the words stilted. "I promise … I vow … to stay with you for as long as you live … so long as you want … so long as you need … me."

"Forever, then." A lilting whisper, followed by a soft sob which broke past my pursed lips.

I couldn't fight it. It was there, somewhere, so deep and so buried. My Edward … and my Trevor. I loved them both.

"Forever."

I felt his soft smile against the crown of my head, and he moved to soak up the liquid peace and joy which ran from me in streams of silent healing.

And because he held me, I cried.

For all the years I longed to run away … for all the days I spent wishing that this was not my life.

Sometimes, you think you want to disappear.

But if you ask me?

I think all anyone ever really wants is just to be found.

And being found?

It makes every throbbing wound, every hollow passion, and every broken heart worth every pain … of living … of trying … and of loving, with every breath that we have.

Forever.


	22. Epilogue: Full Circle

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the Twilight characters or the rights to "Everything Has Changed" as performed by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran or "The Trapeze Swinger" as performed by Iron & Wine, and I will not be earning income from using these materials, although I will pimp them out and say that they should be listened to. Wonderful music. I do, however, own the storyline and any original characters. Thank you.

For all of you who have come back, thank you. I am so honored to have finally completely the journey with you.

For all of you who stumble upon this small tale, thank you. Words are life, and this tale has been life to me over the past few years.

"The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them." - Thomas Merton

* * *

**Epilogue:  
****Full Circle**

_All I know is we said "hello"  
So dust off your highest hopes  
All I know is pouring rain  
And everything has changed  
All I know is the new found grace  
All my days I'll know your face  
All I know since yesterday is _

_Everything has changed_

_- Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran_

* * *

**Six Years Later**

We had come full circle.

Lusty trees and heavy clouds clung firmly to the sky, our world a green and grey tunnel of moss, leaves, mist, and fog. Everything was wet; the smell of rain, of damp, grainy dirt and slick bark seeped through the vents of our rental and into my memories.

"Momma, where did Aunt 'Lice and Uncle Em go?"

I turned and smiled at Ellie, reaching back to brush the three-year-old's straight brown hair from her forehead.

"They're in the car behind us, honey, with Jason and Audrey, just like they were thirty minutes ago, and thirty minutes before that."

The petite little girl turned to stare at her 10-month-old brother's car seat.

"I wish Charlie didn't have to ride in our car." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I wanted Audrey to ride with us."

Edward's light laughter filled the car from beside me.

"You're going to have a full two weeks with Audrey, Cupcake. I think you two can survive the three hour car ride from the airport to Grandma Ellen and Grandpa Robert's house.

"But Daddy –"

"Here sweetie." I handed Eleanor a small bag of nilla wafers. "It's only another five minutes, I promise. Then you and Audrey will have your own room and so much time to spend with each other, I promise you'll get sick of her."

Ellie screwed up her face at me. My husband threw me a sideways glance.

"Nice way to word it, Iz."

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to the road, lined with huge, overbearing pines and dripping with moisture.

"Always been my specialty."

"What, like the time you had Ellie in our bed for three nights because you told her that the m-o-n-s-t-e-r-s weren't in her closet, they were under _her_ bed?" His voice was hushed, but the look he sent my way said more than enough.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"She got over it, right? And now she's better for it. She faced her fear."

Edward chuckled under his breath.

"She's just like you."

I leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"And that's why she's your favorite."

He didn't respond, only glancing in the rear view mirror to smile at his eldest daughter. The rest of our drive was silent, Ellie munching away on her cookies, Charlie _finally_ asleep in the backseat, and Edward and I both lost in our thoughts as we covered the highway between Port Angeles and Forks for the first time since we'd found each other.

It had been six years since the night both of us had finally broken – six years since the night Edward had begun to reclaim his memories, and, piece by piece, he had finally put together enough to become a whole. The one man who had claimed my heart in two different forms.

He was more than I could have asked for; Edward and Trevor flawlessly combined, and I knew that I would love them both until the day I died. Possibly even beyond then. But we had so much more living to do before either of us was allowed to die again.

Now, it seemed like life was worth the living more than ever.

Edward had reconciled, if tentatively, with Carlisle and Esme a few years after the accident, and, by the time Audrey was born, both had become a part of the family again, through the miracle of my amazing husband's forgiveness and attempts to reconcile both of his lives. While Edward and I had our moments of wariness, they were slowly becoming fewer and further between with each day as Esme strove to shower as much love on our children as possible.

Jasper and Alice had married almost immediately upon her success at walking again – Alice would never have allowed anyone else to roll her down the aisle at her wedding – and had started a family right away. Jason was almost five, with the quiet, mystical personality of his father and his mother's shock of deep black hair. Audrey was three, only two months older than Ellie, and the two of them got into more trouble than Edward and I as children.

Well, I claimed that. Edward, Emmett, and Ellen seemed to feel differently.

Emmett and Rosalie had eventually married, much to her parents' absolute dismay, but they had already cut her off from the Hale fortune, so there wasn't much else they could do to forbid the nuptials, other than … well, forbid them. Neither of the two had any inclination towards children, yet, although Rose had been hinting lately that both were getting at the end of their "child-bearing" years and that her "biological clock" was ticking towards doomsday.

Emmett, on the other had, was still a child, so, in the end, Rose already had a large, adopted juvenile on her hands, if all else failed. I pitied them both, riding in the SUV behind us with Audrey and Alice, who could go head to head like warring lionesses, so I wasn't surprised when Em practically leapt from the vehicle the moment Jasper parked on the street in front of the McCarty's new two-story home.

"Audrey, they are _bows_!" Alice complained, stepping from the vehicle at the same moment as her three-year-old, who stomped a little foot and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, I am _not_ wearing them! They're stupid and for girls!"

"Honey, you _are_ a girl!"

I glanced at Ellie, who stood next to me, staring at her Aunt and cousin.

"Go get her, dear. If you can't rescue Aunt Alice, no one can." My daughter and I shared a grin, and her miniature legs carried her over to the ensuing battle where she stopped Audrey's whine mid-sentence.

"Hey Audrey, momma said we get our own room. Wanna go find Gramma Ellen and ask her where it is?"

"Yeah!" Immediately her gaze fell to her father. "Can I, Daddy?"

"Go for it, pumpkin." Jasper ruffled his daughter's hair as both girls joined hands and ran for the front door, where Ellen and Robert stood talking with their son and the ever stoic Jason.

"I don't understand it," Alice muttered, pulling Audrey's suitcase and her make-up bag from the back of the SUV. "What little girl doesn't like _bows_?"

"That little girl." Rose straightened her blouse and pulled her suitcase out behind Alice. "She's been ripping them off since she was five months old, Alice. I think that was an early indication."

Alice _humph-_ed and headed towards the house. Rose glanced at me and grinned before following in Alice's footsteps. I looked at Edward, who stood beside the car, his eyes on the woods.

"Hey," I murmured, stepping towards him and running a hand over his shoulder, "you okay?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "It's all just kind of … surreal, you know? Like, I don't remember it, but I do, all at once. It's familiar and it's not."

I frowned. "You know, we don't have to go this time around. It's okay … it's only one trip out of one hundred. We can always come back."

"No." He clinched his jaw, eyes hard. "I came here for a reason. I'm not going to shy away from it. It's time to be finished. I'm more than I was before, and I'm ready to cement that in the now." He took my hand, rubbing his finger over the bands breaking the skin on my left hand. "It's time to complete the circle, stop looking. Make some new memories."

Smiling, I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant.

* * *

Our two weeks were nearly up.

For our children, the time spent in Forks had been nothing short of the time of their lives. Hide and seek in the woods, swimming in the Pacific at La Push, hiking (well, running) the trails through the forests and onto the beach, playing on the driftwood bridges, and ice cream every day, courtesy of Grandma and Grandpa McCarty, led to what was probably a perfect vacation for two nearly four year olds and a five year old.

As for Edward, Emmett, and I, we hadn't been this humbled or had this much fun in more than fifteen years. Finding all of our secret haunts, discovering the slightly rotting pine bench near the Sol Duc that still stood strong, no matter the current … we had stepped back in time, into history, when our lives were so much simpler and revolved only around the three of us.

But now, it was time to make the final mark, to draw the final line, to come full circle.

The black rental pulled to a smooth stop in front of the hill, lined with vibrant green grass and littered with cement, pushing from the dirt like somber daisies.

I slid my hand into his, pushing my fingers through his damp palms and staring at his stone still face. He was focused, eyes fixed out the window, down the road, not turning to look at the gravestones scattered across and over the hill.

"Maybe we should have brought Em –"

"No." He cut me off before I could finish. "I need to do this with you, alone." His eyes found mine. "I love you, Isabella Masen-Cullen."

"I love you too, Edward."

He hesitated. "I think I need you to get out first."

Once glance at his face, at the light dusting of sweat along his temple and the weary lines creeping around his eyes, sent me out from the car and around to the driver's side door. I pulled the latch, opening his way to our past and our future.

"Just look at me. Stay with me. I'll take you there."

I knew the path, remembered it as well as an old friend who I'd hoped never to visit again.

His eyes found mine, fixed on my wary, wavering smile, and I prayed to whoever would listen that I could be strong enough for him, just once more. It had taken nearly seven years of hard work, of lies and betrayal, of faith and trust and hope, and most importantly, of unconditional, fighting love to work to this point.

I couldn't fail him now.

An idea bloomed in my head. It must have been providence; either that, or my insane idiocy and habit of remembering things at what always seemed like the wrong time. Tentatively, I opened my mouth, and sang.

"_Please, remember me, happily, by the rosebush laughing with bruises on my chin. The time when we counted every black car passing your house beneath the hill, and up until someone caught us in the kitchen –"_

At first he stared, eyes large, and I knew the look, the hush of memories, pulled in and unlocked, playing with his brain and trying to find a place while I sang, probably horribly off key. Finally he laughed beneath his breath and shook his head gently, lifting a hand to caress my cheek as he joined me, a soft and grainy sound.

_"Please, remember me, fondly. I heard from someone you're still pretty, and then They went on to say that the pearly gates had some eloquent graffiti like 'We'll meet again', and 'Fuck the man', and 'Tell my mother not to worry' and angels with their gray handshakes were always done in such a hurry."_

His face lightened, the reaction filtering through to the rest of him, muscles loosening and gait straightening until I moved to walk beside him, silently guiding him with our song and my hand.

"_And please, remember me, at Halloween, making fools of all the neighbors. Our faces painted white, by midnight we'd forgotten one another. And when the morning came, I was ashamed. Only now it seems so silly. That season left the world and then returned, and now you're lit up by the city _…"

I trailed off as we reached our destination. Four slabs of concrete, three grouped together and one further off, tugged at us, at our hearts and our lives and the glue of the bits we had arranged and pieced together so carefully.

"So, Please, remember me." The words left him in a rush of breath; his eyes moved from mine to the headstones. I couldn't look at my slab of cement, the one which bore the name of the only other man I had ever loved as much as the one standing next to me. Instead, I watched him, the one who, in the end, was still so much stronger than I would ever be, even if he didn't realize it.

One, and then two solitary tears slipped across his cheeks, leaking from his foggy green eyes.

Two headstones, belonging to the two people whose deaths he blamed on himself, no matter how many times I had insisted otherwise.

_Edward William Masen, Sr.  
Devoted Father  
Never Forgotten  
August 29, 1962 – July 18, 2002_

_Elizabeth Anne Evenson Masen  
She went as quiet as the dew  
From a familiar flower  
March 7, 1971 – September 14, 2002_

His knees were wet with the grass, and by the time I could join him, his hand was out, calloused fingertips tracing the letters, each an individual stroke.

"I'm sorry." So quiet, words I could barely hear, but for once in my life, I kept my mouth shut. "I know you can't offer forgiveness, at least not now, from here, but I know … while it was my fault, it wasn't. I can't blame myself for your deaths. If I could take it all back, I would never leave, but I can't." He sat back on his knees, face to the sky where a few raindrops splattered along his cheekbone. "So I'm sorry. I guess I'll have to wait another few decades for your answer."

Finally, he turned and looked at the stone beside me. The stone I had leaned against, the stone I had sworn never to leave … the stone I spread my hand across, feeling the pain of those years slip into the cold rock.

_Edward Anthony Masen, Jr._  
_Beloved Son. _  
_June 20, 1984 – September 30, 2001_

"Should we get it taken down?"

"No." The word slipped from my lips, but the moment I said it, I knew it wasn't worth the fight. It was a symbol, of my hate, of my fear, of my lost self which put me on the path to rebirth and a better life. "No, it should stay." I look over at my husband, whose eyes seem lost staring at his own headstone. My hand moves to his.

"The poor soul buried here is the unknown one now. I doubt after fifteen years anyone could tell who he was anyhow." Edward slowly nodded his head. "It's a symbol. Of a life that had to die, so you could become Trevor, and save an entirely new set of people." I offered him a weak smile.

"If only so much hadn't had to die with it."

I didn't answer; instead, I stood and pulled myself to my father's headstone where I sat on the grass. Charles Swan. My heart thumped an extra beat, but, as Edward's arm wrapped around my waist, I was surprised to find that nothing but peace surrounded me at my father's graveside.

"Hi and bye, Daddy. I'm sorry I don't visit more, but, you know … not living in Forks anymore kind of makes it hard." I shifted, running my hands over the top of the settled soil. "You don't need flowers or anything anyhow. I know you, you'd have only gotten mad at the gesture. Just know, everything is perfect now. You have two beautiful grandkids, and I'm happy, happier than I've ever been." I grinned. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Standing, I brushed the dirt from my hands.

"I love you, Daddy. I miss you, still, and my heart breaks that Charlie and Ellie won't ever get to meet you here, but I hope I see you again one day."

Edward took my hand.

"I promise to take care of all of them, sir. No matter what. I'm not going anywhere this time." He looked to me, planting a quick kiss on my lips before saluting to the headstone. "Bye, Chief Swan."

He looked to me, eyes wide, and I knew. What was broken had been put back together again. It would never be the same; some memories were gone, and some remained, locked behind doors we'd find together, but the person Edward had pieced back together was more than he himself could have ever been.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." I smiled and leaned into his chest, a welcome embrace, as the sky opened above us, drops of water bathing us in forgiveness and unity.

"Let's go work on our future."


End file.
